Tilly True

by Dilly Court

  Watching Harriet pacing the floor, totally immersed in her own problems, Tilly thought of Clem lying in hospital seriously injured, his life endangered and his career in jeopardy. She thought of Barney, far away fighting on the North-West Frontier, who might easily be killed in action and knew nothing of her plight. Suddenly, Harriet’s problems seemed trivial and selfish. Brushing her hand across her forehead, Tilly got to her feet. ‘I’m very tired. If you don’t mind, Hattie, I’ll go to my room.’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course. Ring for Meera and she’ll look after you.’

  As Tilly went to leave the room, Harriet ran up to her, catching her by the hand. ‘You will help me, won’t you, Tilly? You and I could stay on here together while you wait for Barney to arrange married quarters. And I can still see Ronnie. Maybe his father will relent if he realises that we really, truly love each other.’

  Tilly patted her hand. ‘I’ll see what I can do. I’m not leaving and that’s for certain.’

  Alone in her room, with Meera having gone to fetch salve and to instruct the pani-wallah to bring hot water, Tilly sat on the edge of her bed, staring at her battered reflection in a hand mirror. There was a nasty-looking gash on her forehead and by morning she would have a black eye. With everything that had happened recently, she had almost forgotten the date. It was just two weeks until Christmas and today was her twentieth birthday.

  ‘Not leaving!’ Francis stared at Tilly as if she had said something blasphemous. ‘You can’t remain in Delhi on your own.’

  ‘But Francis, Tilly wouldn’t be alone if I was allowed to stay too. We could live together until Barney has time to arrange proper married quarters.’ Harriet glanced anxiously at Tilly. ‘You would chaperone me, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Tilly said, looking Francis in the eye. ‘Barney will send for me as soon as he returns to the cantonment.’

  ‘And where would you live in the meantime?’

  ‘Here, of course,’ Harriet said. ‘We would have Meera and the servants to look after us and the Cholmondeleys are only a short tonga ride away.’

  ‘This bungalow belongs to the Missionary Society. You can’t stay here and there really is no alternative other than for you both to accompany me back to England. I’ve sent a telegram to Barney’s commanding officer in Rawalpindi asking him to get word to him as a matter of extreme urgency. If we don’t get a positive reply by the due sailing date then you will have to come with us, Tilly. I’m going to the shipping office this morning to book our passage.’

  ‘You are mean and horrible and I hate you.’ Flouncing out of the dining room, Hattie slammed the door.

  ‘You can’t do this to me, Francis,’ Tilly said quietly. ‘I’m married to your brother and I won’t leave without him.’

  ‘I’m the head of the family now and you’ll do as I say. Believe me, Tilly, it’s for your own good. You don’t know Barnaby as I know him.’

  With Harriet at the Cholmondeleys’, no doubt weeping on Susannah’s shoulder, and Francis having gone to the shipping office, Tilly decided that she must visit Clem at the hospital. She donned a straw hat with a veil in an attempt to conceal her cuts and black eye, and sent Ashok to find a tonga. As usual, Meera insisted that Ashok should accompany her and they set off together for the hospital.

  Clem was in a large ward, his bed being situated at the far end. He appeared to be sleeping as Tilly approached his bedside, but, seeming to sense her presence, he opened his eyes and gave her a drowsy smile.

  ‘You must not stay long,’ the nurse said, pulling up a chair for Tilly. ‘Private Tuffin has only just come round from the anaesthetic and he needs rest and quiet.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Tilly said, sitting primly on the edge of the chair. ‘How are you, Clem?’

  ‘Better for seeing you.’

  ‘Does it hurt?’

  ‘Not much.’

  Tilly smiled. ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘What’s up?’

  Taken by surprise, Tilly shook her head. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Come on, Tilly. This is Clem you’re talking to. I know you and I can see that something’s upset you.’

  Biting her lip, Tilly thought about lying, but the shrewd look in Clem’s eyes convinced her that he would see through a well-intentioned fib, and she told him everything that had happened after she returned to the bungalow. To her immense surprise, Clem agreed with Francis.

  ‘You can’t mean it, Clem.’

  ‘If you was my wife I’d never have left you to fend for yourself. Go back to England. You and me don’t fit in with the toffs, Tilly. Take my advice and go back home where you belong.’

  ‘You’re just saying that because I married Barney and not you.’

  ‘I’m saying it because I care about you. I care what happens to you, Tilly, and I can’t bear to see you neglected.’

  Biting back an angry retort, Tilly patted his hand. ‘I know you mean well, but Barney is a good husband and none of this was his fault.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  Tilly could see that he was unconvinced, but Clem was obviously in pain and she had not the heart to argue with him. ‘The most important thing is for you to get better.’

  ‘I’m finished in the army, Tilly. No one wants a cripple.’

  Curling her fingers around his hand, Tilly gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘That’s the laudanum talking, not the Clem Tuffin I know. I’ve seen you in action and you weren’t afraid of nothing when you took on the Old Stairs gang.’

  Clem smiled drowsily. ‘That was a long time ago.’

  ‘Not so long, and you’ll soon get well again.’ Tilly could see that he was drifting off into a drugged sleep and she laid his hand back on the coverlet. ‘Don’t look now but Florence Nightingale has her eye on us, so I’d best go.’

  With her starched apron rustling, the nurse bore down on them. ‘We must let Private Tuffin get his rest.’

  Getting to her feet, Tilly brushed Clem’s forehead with a kiss. ‘I may not be able to come again, but I hope everything goes well for you.’

  Clem gave her a sleepy smile. ‘Goodbye, Tilly True.’

  Francis returned from the shipping office having obtained three tickets for a ship sailing for London on the thirtieth of December. Harriet went into hysterics and shut herself in her room and Tilly, accompanied by Ashok, went to the telegraph office to send her own message to Barney. Every day she waited for a reply and every day she went to bed disappointed. Colonel Barton had replied to the original telegram by return, confirming that a message had been sent to Barney at the hill station, but since then there had been no word.

  On Christmas Eve, Tilly went again to the hospital only to be informed that Clem had been moved to the military hospital at Meerut. Clutching the present she had bought for him, a silk handkerchief that she had purchased in the bazaar at the Red Fort, Tilly returned to the bungalow feeling even more isolated and alone than before. There was still no word from Barney and now she was beginning to think that he did not want her to join him. Time was running out and in less than a week she would be on her way home.

  Quite unexpectedly, Tilly wanted to go home; she wanted to be with her family especially at Christmas. Lying beneath the mosquito netting on her narrow white bed, she dreamed of fogbound London and the shops brightly lit by naphtha flares, their windows piled high with rosy-cheeked Cox’s apples, dimpled oranges, walnuts, Kentish cobnuts, and pineapples for those rich enough to buy them. There would be bunches of red-berried holly and milky-berried mistletoe and street vendors selling hot chestnuts and baked potatoes from glowing braziers. On Christmas morning there would be shrieks from the younger children as they plunged their hands into socks filled with an orange, a couple of walnuts, an apple, and, if times were good, there would be a small gift – maybe a wooden doll for the girls and a tin whistle for the boys. If times were hard, then maybe it would be just an apple and a few boiled sweets.

  Suddenly going home didn’t seem such a bad idea; she would s
ee Ma and Pops, listen to the chatter of the children and maybe even pay a visit to Molly and her brood in Poplar. She would make her peace with Bert and Emmie, if only for Clem’s sake, and she would marvel at how much baby Diamond had grown.

  At the Cholmondeleys’ invitation, Harriet was to spend Christmas Day with them, and she went off in a state of excitement bordering on delirium, in the expectation that Ronnie would also be there. This left Tilly and Francis to spend Christmas Day alone. Tilly dutifully accompanied Francis to church, where he read the lesson and she sat primly in the pew, uncomfortably aware of the disapproving glances from the older matrons. When the service was over and the congregation filed slowly out of the church, Francis did not offer Tilly his arm but walked on ahead. Following in his wake, Tilly was well aware that he had, albeit unintentionally, demonstrated that she was not his equal. Holding her head high, she ignored the knowing looks and nodding heads. Let them think what they like; she was as good as any of them, if not better.

  Up until the moment of their departure, Tilly clung to the hope that she would receive some form of communication from Barney, but no word came. They boarded the train in Delhi station and the long journey home began. Harriet had recovered from her fit of the sulks, largely due to the unofficial engagement ring from Ronnie that she wore on a chain around her neck. Francis was not to be told, but Harriet confided in Tilly, telling her how romantic it was to be engaged in secret.

  Before they left Delhi, Tilly had managed to send another telegram to Barney stating that they would be sailing on the SS Malta on the thirtieth of December; it was her last hope and she refused to believe that he would willingly let her leave the country without him. Clinging to the faint hope that he might turn up at the docks in Bombay, she managed to endure the boredom of the long train journey.

  The ship sailed and Tilly clutched the taffrail watching with tears in her eyes until India, the land of her dreams, had faded to a thin purple band on the horizon. The roiling waters around the ship’s stern seemed to match the turmoil of her emotions and there was a physical pain in her chest, as if her heart had been torn out and left in Barney’s careless hands.

  ‘Don’t cry, Tilly.’ Harriet slipped her arm around Tilly’s shoulders. ‘I’m sure Barney would have sent for you if he’d been able.’

  Fumbling for her hanky, Tilly sniffed and blew her nose. ‘He might be injured or even dead.’

  ‘No, dear, of course he isn’t. You can be sure of one thing and that is that bad news travels fast. We would have been notified if anything had happened to him.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right. I know he’ll send for me as soon as he can.’

  ‘Of course he will. And who knows, we might both be returning to India sooner than we anticipated. Come on, Tilly, let’s go below and have a nice cup of tea and take a peek at the other passengers. We can decide who looks nice and who doesn’t. After all, we’re going to be stuck with them for a month at least.’

  ‘I’ll probably spend the whole voyage being sick.’

  ‘Oh, dear! You are down in the dumps. You mustn’t even think about mal de mer. This time, I’m going to see that you have as much fun as I do.’

  A New Year’s Eve party set the tone of the trip and Harriet saw to it that Tilly was included in all the social activities. To her surprise and relief, Tilly was not at all seasick and the month-long voyage passed much more pleasantly than the outward journey.

  It was raining when they docked in London, the steady, drenching, ice-cold rain of an English winter. Tilting her face upwards, Tilly allowed the rainwater to trickle into her mouth and down her neck; it tasted of soot and smoke and she knew that she was home.

  Francis organised a cab and sent porters scurrying off to find their luggage.

  ‘Can we please stay in a hotel, just for tonight?’ Harriet said, clutching his arm and adopting a pleading expression. ‘It will be dark soon. And it’ll take ages to get home by train.’

  ‘Nonsense.’ Francis consulted his pocket watch. ‘It’s only three o’clock. We’ll be home in time for dinner. I’m not wasting money on an expensive hotel.’ He turned to Tilly. ‘Get in the cab, please, Tilly, or we’ll miss our connection.’

  Tilly shook her head. ‘I’m not coming with you, Francis.’

  ‘But that’s absurd,’ Harriet said, her eyes wide with dismay. ‘Where else would you go?’

  ‘I’m going home.’ Tilly picked up her valise and portmanteau, thankful that she had so few clothes, unlike Harriet who had two cabin trunks and a pile of bandboxes.

  Francis glared at her, his mouth working with irritation. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you’re coming with us. Palgrave Manor is your home until Barnaby sends for you.’

  ‘No, thank you all the same, but I’m going home.’ Spotting a hansom cab that had just dropped a fare off, Tilly put two fingers in her mouth and whistled.

  ‘Tilly!’ Francis stared at her in horror. ‘What sort of behaviour is that for a lady?’

  Giggling, Harriet covered her mouth with her hand.

  ‘Oh, Francis! We both know that I’m not a lady, so why keep up the pretence? I’m grateful to you and Hattie for everything you’ve done for me, but I don’t belong in Palgrave Manor. If he wants me, then Barney knows where to find me.’

  The hansom cab pulled up beside them and the cabby leapt down to help Tilly with her bag. ‘Where to, lady?’

  ‘Red Dragon Passage, please, cabby.’ Flinging her arms around Hattie’s neck, Tilly kissed her on the cheek. ‘Goodbye, dear Hattie.’

  ‘Don’t do this, Tilly, please.’

  ‘It’s for the best, but we’ll see each other again soon, when Barney comes home.’ Tilly climbed up into the cab, waving to Hattie and a grim-faced Francis as the driver urged his horse forward.

  Nellie looked up, staring at Tilly as if she were a complete stranger.

  ‘Ma, it’s me.’

  ‘Oh, my God!’ Clapping her hand over her mouth, Nellie got slowly to her feet.

  ‘I’ve come home.’ Tilly flung her arms round her mother’s neck, laughing and crying both at the same time. ‘I’ve missed you all so much.’

  ‘You nearly give me a heart attack, you daft thing. Walking in off the street like that when I thought you was still in foreign parts.’ Gently freeing herself, Nellie sat down again, wiping her eyes on her apron. ‘Where is he then, that toff that you married out of hand?’

  The bitter note in Nellie’s voice made Tilly shudder inwardly, but she managed to smile. ‘Barney’s off fighting on the North-West Frontier, Ma. I had to come home because there wasn’t a suitable married quarter for us.’

  ‘So you come home alone, then?’

  ‘It’s not what you think, honest. And I didn’t come alone; I travelled with Hattie and Francis. They wanted me to go with them to Palgrave Manor but I wanted to come home.’ Tilly could see that Ma was going to take some convincing. Taking off her hat and the fur-lined cape she shivered, realising for the first time that there was no fire burning in the grate and the room was bitterly cold. ‘Never mind all that, it’s not important now. How are things?’

  ‘Could be better. Your dad has been in bed with his chest since before Christmas and I’ve got two jobs on the go.’ Nellie glanced down at her chapped, red hands and pulled a face. ‘I does the early morning cleaning in one place and I’m washer-up at the King’s Head of a night. It don’t bring in much but it keeps us fed.’

  In spite of the semi-darkness of a winter afternoon, Tilly was painfully aware that Ma’s parchment-pale face was crazed with a mesh of lines, giving her the appearance of an old woman. If she had felt any self-pity for her own situation, it was wiped away in that harsh moment of truth. ‘Well, I’m home now and I’ll make things easier for you, I promise.’

  ‘You’re a good girl, love. But you’re a lady now. You don’t belong here no more; you ought to go and stay with your new family.’

  ‘You and Pops and the nippers are my family, Ma, and I’ll not see you work y
ourself to the bone.’ Hearing a rattling cough from the bedroom above, Tilly made a move towards the stairs. ‘I’m going upstairs to see Pops and as soon as the youngsters get home from school I’ll send them out for coal and food.’

  ‘Wait. Ned’s only just dropped off to sleep. The coughing kept him awake all night and I spent me last penny on a drop of laudanum to give him some ease.’

  ‘Then I’ll go to the shop round the corner.’

  ‘Not dressed like that you won’t,’ Nellie cried, jumping to her feet. ‘Have you forgotten what it’s like round here? They’d have that fur cape off your back as soon as look at you – and them fancy kid gloves.’

  She had forgotten, or almost forgotten, even though it was only a matter of months since she had left the East End. Tilly sat down, shaking her head. ‘Am I so different now, Ma?’

  Nellie plucked a much darned woollen shawl from the back of a chair, wrapping it around her head and shoulders. ‘I’ll go over the road and beg a pot of hot water from Enid.’ Picking up the old brown teapot, Nellie took off the lid and sniffed the contents. ‘We’ve only made a couple of brews from these leaves. I expects they’ll make us another.’

  Tilly sat and waited while Ma went across the street. Upstairs she could hear Pops’s stertorous breathing, punctuated by the occasional, rattling cough. Shivering, she got to her feet, wrapping her arms round herself and walking up and down in an effort to keep warm. The fur-lined cape lay on the chair, but somehow she did not have the heart to put it on; not while Ma was outside in the bitter cold of a February dusk, begging for a pot of hot water.

  Minutes later, Nellie returned, smiling. ‘She’s a good sort, is Enid. She even give me a lump of sugar, though of course I’ll see she has it back when I get paid.’

  Remembering the lavish breakfast that had been served on board ship, Tilly’s stomach clenched with guilt as she watched Ma pour the dark liquid into chipped cups, scraping a little sugar from the lump and adding it to the tea. Such a small feat was obviously a triumph and Nellie handed her the cup, smiling proudly. ‘I dunno where we’d be without good neighbours, Tilly. And that’s the truth.’