The Lock-Keeper's Son

by Nancy Carson

  ‘Pity,’ he said. ‘Funny, but Kate reckoned as you wouldn’t want to shift from the hearth. Why won’t you go out at night, Clara? You always used to love it, as I recall.’

  ‘Me? I see no pleasure in it these days, Murdoch. I’m content to stop here and enjoy this house. It’s a sight more comfortable than any public hall. And I don’t feel the need for company like I used to when I was young. I like me own company, and the company of me husband and family. But if you and our Kate want to go to see this play, then you go. With my blessing.’

  Murdoch was inclined to reason with his new wife after what Kate had told him about her fear, but decided it was pointless yet. Some other time, perhaps.

  When Algie Stokes left work that Saturday afternoon, he cycled towards the Meeses’ dwelling with the intention of calling on Harriet. Well, Eli had given him permission now that he’d gone up in the world. He’d had it in mind to start seeing a bit more of Harriet himself – for a bit of female company, of course – nothing more …

  As he rode, he pondered his dissatisfaction at the way his new job was developing. More and more, Benjamin was shutting him out of decision making, no longer seeking his opinions now that the necessary prototype Sampson bicycle was ready. He had not even invited Algie to ride it – his own creation – to evaluate it and compare it with the Swift which he knew so well. Sampson’s were already training men in how to assemble them; they were making the necessary jigs and tools. They had set aside an area of the factory for production, and constructed a new loading bay to receive the incoming materials.

  Should he be bold and make his feelings known, but risk appearing impertinent and perhaps ungrateful? He was, after all, earning more money as an employee than he had before. Yet where was the contentment? Benjamin Sampson had stolen his idea, used it, and was overseeing it as if it were his own brainchild. He was already spending a lot of time travelling the country, visiting wholesalers and shops to promote the product. Benjamin was reaping the glory, the recognition for being a man of vision, and ultimately the profit. Besides, it galled Algie that the swine was also married to a girl as lovely as Aurelia …

  Algie had to pedal the last part of the journey, dodging random mounds of horse droppings and tram lines, as well as erratic pedestrians who veered unpredictably into the gutter from the pavements to avoid bumping into other shoppers and their baskets, for Brierley Hill High Street was always at its busiest on a Saturday. He stopped outside Eli Meese’s drapery, mourning and mantles emporium and rested his bike against the wall in the entry. He peered inside the shop window to see if Harriet was working, but saw no sign of her, so he knocked at the side door in the entry.

  Priss answered it. ‘Oh, it’s you.’

  ‘Hello, Priss. Is Harriet in?’

  ‘She is, but not looking her glamorous best at present. I’m crimping her hair ready for tonight.’

  ‘Well, can I come in? I’m sure she won’t mind seeing me, now your father has allowed it.’

  ‘Yes, you’ve had a special dispensation, haven’t you?’ Priss called into the house and asked if she should allow Algie in. Harriet answered that she should. He followed her inside, with the feeling that Priss had no intention of making him welcome.

  ‘Forgive me if I don’t get up,’ Harriet said in greeting.

  ‘Quite all right. I can see you’re a mite handicapped. How are you?’

  ‘Very well, Algie, thank you. I thought it was nice of my father to relent and allow you to visit me again, don’t you?’

  ‘Well, it seems I’ve gone up in the world since my mother remarried. At least it’s brought me that benefit.’

  ‘We’d expected you sooner,’ Priss commented, resuming the tending of Harriet’s mousey tresses. ‘Especially since your boat girl has given you up.’

  ‘How’s your work going?’ Harriet enquired, frowning at Priss through the mirror placed before them. ‘All this business with the new bicycles?… You can sit down, you know.’

  Algie shrugged and sat down on the nearest chair. ‘I can’t say as I’m enjoying work much at the minute,’ he answered glumly.

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I’ve had my nose pushed out, to tell you the truth. But what can I do about it?’

  ‘Nothing from your position, I suspect,’ Harriet said sympathetically. ‘But what a shame, after you put in all the hard work. It’s a pity you couldn’t have done it all off your own bat, so to speak, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, it’s what I wanted to do, but I hadn’t got the money. I still haven’t.’

  ‘Pity your new stepfather doesn’t set you up, Algie,’ Priss remarked experimentally, to elicit his reaction, while applying curling tongues to Harriet’s hair. ‘I’m sure he could afford it. D’you think he would?’

  ‘I dunno. But I wouldn’t ask him anyway.’

  ‘Oh? Don’t you like him?’ she fished.

  ‘He’s all right, I suppose.’

  ‘Quite a change of life for you, Algie,’ she went on, ‘your mother remarrying so soon after your poor father’s death. What did you think about that?’

  ‘I wasn’t very struck on the idea, to tell you the truth. I would rather she’d waited a respectable amount of time. Folks talk, you know, Priss.’

  ‘Oh, I know they do. Me? I can’t abide gossip.’

  ‘Sticks and stones,’ Harriet piped up from behind a curtain of hair that was now covering her face. ‘It had nothing to do with anybody else, so why should anybody else concern themselves? Anyway, I suspect your mother was merely trying to look after her own future, and I don’t blame her one bit. After all, you and Kate are not going to be with her always, are you? I mean to say, you’ll very likely wed at some time, and Kate is on about becoming an actress on the London stage, though I hope she sees sense eventually. Where would that leave your poor mother?’

  ‘I know what you mean. I’ve thought about that … Anyway, Harriet, I came to ask if you fancied going out tonight.’

  Harriet was thankful her hair was still hiding her face. ‘I, er … That’s very nice of you to ask, Algie …’

  ‘But?’

  ‘But I can’t.’

  ‘Because she’s already going out,’ Priss said smugly.

  ‘Oh? Where to?’

  ‘To, er … To the Public Hall in Dudley … to see a play.’

  ‘Didn’t you know, Algie?’ Priss enquired with gleeful satisfaction. ‘Clarence Froggatt’s taking her.’

  ‘Shut up, Priss, I’m well able to explain for myself.’

  Priss took a comb and pulled it through her sister’s hair, away from her face. Harriet looked appropriately self-conscious, and Algie saw she was blushing.

  He looked at both girls with astonishment and incredulity. ‘You’re going out with Clarence Froggatt?’

  ‘Yes, I am,’ she said sheepishly. ‘He asked me on Monday and I said I would. I didn’t see any harm in it. I didn’t realise you would bother to ask me.’

  ‘But you know his reputation …’

  ‘Is it any more fearful than yours, Algie?’ parried Priss. ‘From what I hear of it, you’re as bad as each other. People in glass houses … What you ought to have realised by now, Algie, is that women don’t really care very much what the men they fancy have been up to previously, nor who with, as long as they’re clean and particular … How is your sister, by the way, since she and Clarence broke up?’

  Algie shrugged. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

  ‘Just curious.’

  ‘She seems all right. I don’t think she was that bothered. She was more upset over my father’s death … Oh, and the fact that Clarence was callous enough to give her up on the very night Father died,’ he added, relishing the opportunity to get in another dig about the unworthy Clarence. ‘To my mind, that’s not the mark of a gentleman.’

  ‘Kate seems to have taken well to your new stepfather anyway,’ Priss suggested.

  ‘Yes, it seems like it. They get on quite well … So, Harriet … D’you think
this is likely to become a regular thing, you and Clarence Froggatt?’ He pronounced the name with some disdain.

  ‘How do I know?’ Harriet responded. ‘But I quite like Clarence. I always have. I might well see him again if he asks me.’

  He sighed frustratedly. ‘Just be careful of Clarence Froggatt, Harriet. Otherwise you might come to a sticky end.’

  ‘A sticky end?’ echoed Priss, savouring the words. She flashed a mischievous glance at her sister through the mirror facing them. ‘Ooh … Algernon makes the prospect of a sticky end sound quite exciting, doesn’t he, our Harriet?’

  Chapter 21

  Seeing Clarence Froggatt again at the play stirred up some unwelcome emotions in Kate Stokes, emotions which surprised and confused her. It was hard for her to acknowledge that Clarence being there was as much a trigger to attend as was the actual play. Such an admission would suggest that she still harboured feelings for him. All she would admit was that it stuck in her craw that he had had the effrontery to give her up, rather than the other way round.

  Priss had not been teasing her when she announced that he had invited Harriet to go with him. Well, it was likely to end up being much more than a night at the theatre, if she knew him. Kate had lain with him, knew him better than his own mother did, and now she envied Harriet. She dearly wished she could stand beside Harriet Meese, wearing this blue dress she had on, so that he could compare them, and see who was by far the better-looking. It was the blue dress with the low décolletage, which she had worn that first night she had allowed him to seduce her in the doctor’s house. She looked her best in it; she was at her most desirable. She desperately wanted to flaunt her attributes and rub Clarence’s nose in it, to let him see just what he was missing, and make him suffer. If he wantonly drooled for her, so much the better. To think he had thrown her over, and was now mooning over a girl who was not in any way pretty, irked her beyond endurance. Serve Harriet right if she won him back …

  At the interval, Kate decided she must visit the ladies’ room, as much for the novelty of actually using a water closet as anything else, although nature was pressing her a little and would be even more later if she didn’t go. She excused herself while Murdoch remained in his seat, and made for the rear of the auditorium. As she approached, she spotted Harriet standing at the head of a queue which had very quickly formed, and decided she would give it a miss for now. So she turned around, content that the girl had not seen her. However, just as she got back inside the auditorium, Clarence was approaching and she almost bumped into him before she saw him.

  ‘Goodness! Clarry!’ she exclaimed, feigning surprise as great as his to meet thus.

  ‘Katie … Well … how good to see you.’

  ‘I was just on my way to the water closet, but I ain’t waiting in that queue,’ she said by way of casual conversation to explain her presence on that very spot. ‘You should see it. You’d think they’d put more of ’em in a public building, when there are so many women dying to go.’

  He laughed at her typical forthrightness. ‘Yes, you’d think so.’

  ‘So the first public building you design, Clarry, make sure you allow for plenty of water closets for the women.’

  ‘Oh, I will, and that’s a promise.’ His eyes scanned her up and down as he smiled. ‘You’re looking very well, Kate.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She smiled with satisfaction at his compliment. ‘So are you.’

  ‘I was so sorry to hear of your father passing away.’

  ‘Were you?’ she answered, unconvinced. She’d been waiting for this moment, to let him know how she felt about the way he’d treated her just prior to her father’s death. ‘The way you were that night I got the feeling you couldn’t have cared less. That night of all nights.’

  ‘I feel badly about that. I’d hoped you might have forgiven me.’

  ‘Your timing was rotten, Clarence.’

  ‘I know …’ He scratched his head, embarrassed. ‘You must realise, Kate, that it had not sunk in with me that your father was so ill. I was a little preoccupied that night. The possibility that you might be about to lose him just didn’t register.’

  ‘Fancy,’ she said, trying hard to stifle her indignation, but to no avail. ‘Well, it was nice of you to come back after and offer your condolences. It was nice of you to go to his funeral.’

  ‘I am sorry, Kate. I would’ve, but I felt such a bounder. I really couldn’t face you. I felt such a cad. As for the funeral … well, I make it a point never to attend the funerals of my father’s patients. It’s rather a bad advertisement for him, you see. People know me as his son, don’t they? We could hardly have folk saying, “Oh, look, there’s Doctor Froggatt’s son again. Another of his patients has kicked the bucket. We’d better change to another doctor”. It could ruin him and his reputation.’

  Kate managed a smile as she accepted his logic. ‘Well, I reckon you could’ve made an exception in my father’s case. Still, it’s done now. It’s history, as they say … Harriet told me you were bringing her here tonight. I haven’t seen her, though,’ she said innocently. ‘Are you sure she’s here?’

  ‘Oh, yes. She’s here all right. I fancy she’s paying a visit to the water closet, like you were.’

  ‘Then she must’ve been lucky and got to the front of the queue. It’s as well, if she was desperate.’

  He laughed again.

  ‘Fancy,’ she remarked with all the casualness she could muster. ‘Who would’ve thought it, eh? You and Harriet Meese …’

  ‘Harriet’s a very nice girl, Kate. You know I’ve always admired her. She’s a very homely girl.’

  ‘Oh, I know she is … With a face and hairstyle like hers there’s no wonder at it.’ She smiled brilliantly, having scored a very telling point. ‘But she’s always admired you, Clarry.’

  His eyes suddenly manifested a defiant twinkle. ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

  ‘Well, at least that’s to her credit. You should make a very happy couple.’

  He shrugged. ‘Who knows?… So who are you with tonight, Kate?’

  ‘Oh, my new stepfather.’

  ‘Ah, Murdoch Osborne. Yes, I heard that he had rather rapidly wed your mother.’

  ‘Yes, it was a bit quick.’

  ‘And I had him marked down as rather having his eye on you …’

  ‘On me?’ Kate visibly wriggled at this snippet.

  ‘Well, he does have a certain reputation …’

  ‘For what?’ Kate asked naïvely.

  ‘For women, of course. Didn’t you know?’

  ‘How should I know?’

  ‘You don’t think he’s in an Amateur Dramatics Society for the love of plays, do you?’

  ‘Why else would he be in it?’

  ‘To surround himself with likely women. Women who won’t kiss and tell, lest their peers shun them for their indiscretions. You know how straight-laced some of them are.’

  ‘Is that why you became a member, Clarence? To meet likely women?’

  ‘Why, yes, of course. And it pays off, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Does it?’ she queried. ‘You wouldn’t think so looking at who you’re with tonight. Still … to think you gave up the best-looking girl in the amateur dramatics society …’

  ‘There’s no arguing that you are, Kate.’

  ‘Didn’t we have enough fun for your tastes, Clarry?’ she asked kittenishly. ‘Considering there were no strings attached, I would’ve thought we had lots of fun.’

  ‘No strings attached?’ he queried, feeling suddenly bothered that he had misread Kate’s inclinations and deprived himself of her favours prematurely. ‘But I thought you wanted to get married at sometime.’

  ‘Me? Why would I want to get married? It was you that kept harping on about marriage.’

  ‘Only in terms of what and what not to expect if you got pregnant.’

  ‘I don’t want marriage, nor kids, nor any of that softness, Clarry. I’ll take my chances. If I fall pregnant, I’ll handle it one w
ay or the other. With no comeback on anybody.’

  ‘I say … Then maybe I got you all wrong.’

  ‘Well, maybe you did …’

  ‘Maybe we should meet again and talk about it more.’

  ‘Yes, maybe we should, Clarry … Why don’t you write to me, eh? Suggest a time and a place. My address is Badger House, High Street, Kingswinford,’ she announced proudly.

  At the end of the show, Kate made sure she and Murdoch lingered, till she could be reasonably certain that Clarence and Harriet had left before them. She had no wish to see them together. She could not understand what allure Harriet Meese could possibly hold for him. All right, her figure was passable; she had a narrow waist, a pert bosom and she held herself well, but her face and her hair … Her hair was so old-fashioned.

  ‘Did you enjoy that, Kate, ha?’ Murdoch asked, as they stood up at last to join the rest of the stragglers making their way out onto Wolverhampton Street.

  ‘Oh, it was all right,’ she said absently. In truth she had been too preoccupied with thoughts of Clarence Froggatt to pay much attention to the play.

  ‘I thought that girl who took the part of Lady Brighton’s daughter was quite good, didn’t you? Ha?’

  ‘Not particularly. I could’ve done it better.’

  Murdoch grinned. ‘That’s what I admire in you, young Kate, your confidence. I admit, you’re much better-looking.’

  That made her smile with gratitude. It was the sort of boost she thrived on. ‘And a much better actress,’ she suggested.

  Out in the cold night air, they crossed Wolverhampton Street to Murdoch’s gig, tethered to a gas street lamp a few yards away. Kate huddled in her cape and nestled her hands in her new muff as she took her seat. He lit the lamps, patted the horse and retrieved the travelling rug from under his seat.

  ‘I saw Clarence Froggatt in there,’ she volunteered evenly as he jumped in beside her and flicked the reins. ‘He was with Harriet Meese, of all people.’

  They moved off and Kate covered her skirt with the travelling rug to keep her legs warm.