Candles in the Storm

by Rita Bradshaw

  They had only gone half a mile before he was fast asleep, and it was a few minutes after this that Kitty said, her tone subdued now, ‘Sooner or later I’m goin’ to have to tell me mam I’m walkin’ out with Alf, aren’t I?’

  It wasn’t the first time they had had this conversation over the weeks Kitty and Alf had been courting, and now Daisy said, ‘Kitty, she can’t stop you. You’re a grown woman. Stand up to her and she’ll back down. All bullies do.’

  ‘Aye, maybe, but it isn’t just what me mam might say so much as . . .’ Kitty stopped.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I don’t know how serious he is, that’s the thing, I suppose. If I tell me mam an’ put up with all that’ll follow for nowt . . .’

  ‘For nowt?’

  ‘Aye. He might not be thinkin’ permanent, lass, might he?’

  Daisy glanced at Kitty’s face and her friend’s expression caused her to say, ‘Alf’s not the sort to lead a lass on, Kitty. He likes you. More than likes you. Everyone can see that. And you’re so good for him. You look up to him and he knows it. He’s sort of grown in stature since you’ve been courting.’

  ‘Aye, maybe.’ Kitty’s cheek were pink. When she changed the subject Daisy didn’t press the matter but her friend’s anxiety had disturbed her.

  They reached the village to see the most enormous bonfire - as yet unlit - on the beach, with a number of children excitedly gathering more driftwood to add to it. Tommy woke up just as they reached the cottage door, and when Tilly’s bairns called to him from the sands went running off to join them, his small face alight with the thrill of it all.

  Every bairn knew that come nightfall they all blacked their faces with soot and called themselves guisers, marching round the cottages begging for money or sweetmeats while their mams and grannies prepared a feast to be consumed round the bonfire of roasted chestnuts, special cakes of sugar, cinnamon and sweet herbs, and soused herrings. It was a time when the whole village came together and afterwards many a small person was sick with excitement and too much cake. There would be a torchlight procession all round the village before the bonfire was lit, and then dancing to the accompaniment of a fiddle or two.

  As always, Alf was hot on the heels of the two girls, but when he entered the cottage Kitty had to force herself to act naturally. She had loved Alf Hardy almost from the first moment she set eyes on him, even knowing how he felt about Daisy, but it was because she loved him so much that she couldn’t lie to herself. He would always feel something for Daisy, she wasn’t so daft as to think otherwise, but - and here her thoughts clarified - that didn’t matter so long as what he felt for her was real enough. And she just wasn’t sure about that. Oh, they had some right good cracks together but there was more to a man-and-woman relationship than larking about. More than love even. There had to be . . . what? Kitty struggled to find the words which would express the feeling she knew to be important. Tenderness, that was it. When a lad felt tender about a lass, and a lass about a lad, it sort of filled any little gaps. Aye, she’d settle for tenderness all right where Alf was concerned and count herself well blessed, even if that was all he ever felt.

  He walked straight over to where she was sitting, tweaking an errant curl which was hanging down over her forehead as he said, ‘Lookin’ forward to the jollifications then, lass?’

  She smiled back at him, nodding her reply. He always spoke to her first these days and his manner with Daisy was now that of a brother with a younger sister, but . . . Kitty glanced at her friend - slim and beautiful - and then looked down at her own bulkier shape. How did he really feel? She’d have to try and find out because she didn’t think she could go on like this much longer.

  ‘Aw, come with us. It won’t be the same without you, lass.’

  ‘Aye, you know how you’ve been looking forward to it.’

  ‘Don’t you stay on my account, lass, ’cos I’m big enough and ugly enough to look after meself.’

  ‘You never said a truer word there, Gran!’

  ‘An’ less of your lip, Tilly Appleby.’

  Daisy smiled as she gazed round the faces in front of her - Kitty’s, Alf’s, Tilly’s, her granny’s - but much as she appreciated their concern she had no intention of joining the others for the torchlight procession or the lighting of the bonfire and the dancing. She hadn’t from the moment she and Kitty had talked earlier, and when she had managed to get Alf alone for a moment or two in the kitchen and whisper that Kitty was feeling a bit down, mainly because she wasn’t sure where she stood with him, her decision had been made. Kitty and Alf might feel they had to stay with her if she went outside and it was important they had a chance to be by themselves, something that was hard to come by at the best of times.

  She had made her grandmother her excuse, saying she wanted to sit with Nellie. Now she said, ‘Me and Gran will sit and have a glass of your mam’s blackcurrant wine, Alf, and put the world to rights. You’re good at doing that, aren’t you, Gran?’ she added teasingly.

  ‘Oh, you.’ Nellie wagged her head at her granddaughter, but didn’t add her voice to that of the others and remained quiet when they tried to persuade Daisy to change her mind again. There was something wrong with her lass. Did she regret refusing Alf now he was courting Kitty? But no, it wouldn’t be that. Whatever was wrong, the lass had made her decision about Alf years ago.

  ‘So?’ The door had barely closed behind the last of them when Nellie spoke. ‘What’s wrong?’

  Daisy poured two glasses of Enid’s wine, which had the deserved reputation of having a kick like a mule, before she said, ‘There is something I was going to tell you. Miss Wilhelmina had some news from Sir Augustus a few days ago.’

  ‘Oh, aye?’

  ‘About William.’

  Nellie’s sparse eyebrows rose but she said nothing. She was thinking plenty however. So the young master had finally got betrothed, had he? It had to be something like that.

  ‘He’s missing.’

  ‘Missin’?’

  Daisy nodded. ‘It could be some sort of mix up, of course, but apparently he’d decided to leave Paris and spend some time in Scotland. When his cousin went to join him there he found William had never arrived. He went to see Sir Augustus to learn if William had contacted his father, and now the cousin and Sir Augustus have gone to Calais to see if anyone there knows anything. According to enquiries his father made before he left for France, William never boarded the ship he was supposed to travel to England on.’

  ‘An’ this cousin’s got no idea where the lad could be?’

  ‘He did say . . .’ Daisy hesitated, and then continued, ‘It could be that William changed his mind at the last minute and is staying with friends in France.’

  ‘Got a lot of friends, has he?’

  Daisy shrugged. Reading between the lines of what Sir Augustus had said when he had called to see Miss Wilhelmina just before leaving for France, it appeared quite a few of the ‘friends’ were of the female persuasion. Nevertheless, ridiculous though it was after all she’d told herself over the last three years, she was worried. She couldn’t help it. The possibility that William was lying injured somewhere, or worse, had shown her that all her talk of hating him was nonsense.

  ‘Aye, well, I’m sure he’s all right, lass. Such as the young master buy themselves out of trouble. Likely he didn’t want everyone to know his business and had something in mind he didn’t want to let on about.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ Something involving a woman no doubt. Although she’d rather that than her worst fears come true. Which only proved she was as daft as a brush considering the cavalier way William had treated her. Daisy decided to change the subject. ‘How has Tommy been behaving himself? Any more fighting with Tilly’s youngest? Butter wouldn’t have melted in his mouth at the house,’ she added lovingly.

  ‘Oh, aye, I can believe that. Charm itself when he wants to be.’ But Nellie’s voice was warm. The child was her favourite. ‘He’s a lad an’ a half an’ no mistake, but his d
a was the same. Come out of yer mam’s belly with his fists raised, did Tom. But he’s a bright little laddie, the bairn, an’ comical with it. Did Tilly tell you what he said the other night when the bairns were all in bed? Mind, it weren’t Tommy’s fault really. The older bairns had been teachin’ him an’ the other little ’uns that rhyme about Christmas an’ the workhouse, the one that goes:

  It was Christmas Day in the workhouse

  The happiest day of the year;

  Men’s hearts were full of gladness

  Their bellies full of beer,

  When up spoke a bad, brave pauper

  His face as bold as brass

  We don’t want your Christmas pudding!

  You can stick it up your arse!’

  Daisy found herself grinning in spite of herself. ‘The little monkeys!’

  ‘Aye, still, that’s bairns. Anyway, Tilly was hurryin’ ’em along an’ she’d promised each of ’em a piece of vinegar toffee if they were good. Cuthbert had said he’d call round, you see.’

  Daisy nodded. Cuthbert Hartley had been a pal of Peter’s and, his wife having died the year before after giving birth to their third child, had taken to calling in the evenings oft times lately, ostensibly to pass the time of day with Nellie. However, everyone knew he was sweet on Tilly and she on him.

  ‘Anyway, Tilly was halfway down the stairs when they started playin’ up some, so she tells ’em there’ll be no toffee if they don’t quieten down. An’ young Tommy pipes up, “We don’t want your vinegar toffee, you can stick it up your--”’ Nellie lowered her chin.

  ‘He never did?’ Daisy was actually quite shocked although she had to bite on her lip to stop herself from laughing. But she didn’t want Tommy speaking like that. Not her little man.

  ‘Aye, wee monkey. ’Course, he didn’t know what he was sayin’, lass, not really. He was just funnin’.’

  Daisy wondered about that. Tommy was indeed as bright as a button as her granny had said, and he had all of his father’s cheekiness and then some, besides which Tilly was an easy-going and indulgent mother, indulgent to a fault. Her bairns all seemed to take after Peter who had always been the placid, gentle one in the family, whereas Tom had always been in hot water over something or other from the day he was born, according to her granny. Nevertheless, in spite of the fact that she and Tom had always fought like cat and dog, he had been the one Daisy had most in common with in a funny sort of way. But his son needed discipline as well as love and this was becoming increasingly apparent as Tommy left babyhood behind.

  Of course the ideal solution would be for her to spend more time than just a half-day a week with the bairn, but Miss Wilhelmina couldn’t spare her, ill as she was, and Daisy couldn’t repay her mistress’s many kindnesses by leaving the old lady’s employ at a time when Miss Wilhelmina needed her the most. Besides which how could she provide for all those who were looking to her? The last three years she’d managed to pay the rent on the cottage, feed and clothe all its occupants and still supply little luxuries which made her granny’s life more enjoyable. There was no worry about being able to call the doctor now; he came once a month bringing a bagful of pills and potions for her granny, and his visits and the medication alone cost more than most women double Daisy’s age had a hope of earning.

  She had seen the grey exhausted faces of some of those who worked fourteen to sixteen-hour days in the factories, mills and brickmaking works hereabouts when she drove into Sunderland with Harold for bits and pieces her mistress required. Ninety hours a week for three or four shillings in the shops too, and then some of them, especially those employed in dress shops, were expected to take work home to do in their ‘spare time’. Bairns in those homes had no chance. At least Tommy was plump, healthy and happy.

  Daisy now turned to Nellie and said quietly, ‘I’ll talk to him about it. He has to understand what’s right and wrong, Gran, young as he is.’

  ‘Aye, I dare say, hinny, but there’s worse things than a bairn bein’ a mite lippy, an’ he’s a lovin’ little soul.’

  Tommy definitely had his great-grandmother in the palm of his tiny hand!

  The bonfire had long since been lit and was now a mass of glowing red embers, but the drinking and dancing were still in full swing when Tilly and Cuthbert walked through the door a couple of hours later.

  ‘We’ve come to sit with Gran for a while, lass.’ Tilly cast a glance at Nellie who was snoring softly. ‘You go and stretch your legs, Daisy, and join the others for the dancing. It’s not fair, you missin’ it all.’

  She would have preferred to continue sitting at the table tackling some of Tilly’s mending; she had been thinking about William for the last half-an-hour while her grandmother had been asleep and didn’t feel like putting a merry face on. However, she’d rather fancied Cuthbert’s face had lit up when he’d seen Nellie was dead to the world. It couldn’t be often he had Tilly all to himself.

  She put down one of the children’s torn shirts and got to her feet, thanking them. Once outside she raised her face to the starlit sky. The scent of the sea and woodsmoke, and the distant crashing of the waves under a sky drenched with light from the full moon, made the night enchanting. It was rare to get such an evening at the end of October.

  Where are you, William? She lowered her eyes to the folk on the beach as the fiddlers struck up a merry jig. Everywhere she looked there seemed to be couples although she was too far away to make out who they were. She found she couldn’t face joining them. She turned and began to wander towards the sand dunes, intending to find a smooth rock on which to sit and look out over the moonlit sea.

  She almost walked straight into them.

  Afterwards Daisy blessed the fact that Alf and Kitty were so wrapped up in each other they were blind and deaf to anything around them. Of course in the first moment she didn’t realise it was them, it could have been any young courting couple frolicking beneath the pearly sky. She blinked in surprise before quickly dropping to her knees above the deep dip where the two partially clothed figures were, hoping to edge silently away and avoid embarrassing them. The man had been lying half over the woman, his mouth to one of her breasts and her hands entwined in his hair, and the woman’s legs had been naked.

  Daisy was almost out of earshot when she heard Kitty’s unmistakable gurgling laughter which caused her to freeze for a moment before hurrying on.

  Kitty and Alf. When she reached the first of the cottages Daisy paused to catch her breath, the two names continuing to reverberate in her mind. Did this mean that everything was all right now? She did hope so. She could see her two friends being happy and raising bonny babies, and Alf would undo all the damage Gladys had done her daughter. Kitty was well overdue a taste of real happiness.

  Daisy began to walk on slowly. She could also see her own situation changing very shortly with the state of Miss Wilhelmina’s heart. She would not remain at Evenley House after her mistress’s demise, not even if she got the chance to do so which was doubtful, but neither would she be content living in the fishing village again. Her shorthand had come on nicely but she hadn’t had the chance to so much as put a finger on a typewriter, and if she was to earn enough to look after her granny and Tilly and her bairns . . . She had a small amount saved but it wasn’t much; Molly’s sister’s situation had depleted it somewhat before Miss Wilhelmina had taken over the responsibility. Nevertheless, it was enough to give her a breathing space. She might have to take a post as a governess perhaps, while continuing with her shorthand and buying herself a secondhand typewriter when one cropped up in a pawn shop. She had been looking for one for ages but nothing had been forthcoming, and they were too expensive to buy new.

  Daisy breathed deeply of the smoke- and salt-scented air. The one thing she wanted was to have her boy with her; if that could be accomplished she’d be the happiest woman on earth.

  ‘Everything’s all right now. Between me an’ Alf, I mean.’

  The two girls were walking home after the festivities
and as Daisy said warmly, ‘Oh I’m so glad, Kitty. I told you he was serious about you,’ her friend turned a shining face to her.

  ‘We didn’t want to announce it tonight, what with everyone tied up with putting the bairns to bed and Alf’s mam having already turned in, but he’s asked me to marry him, Daisy.’

  ‘Kitty!’>

  After the two girls had finished hugging and were walking on again, Kitty said quietly, ‘He said some lovely things tonight, almost as though he knew I was feelin’ funny, an’ then one thing led to another an’ he asked me. I . . . I love him so much, Daisy.’

  ‘I know you do, lass.’

  ‘An’ I know he loves me now.’ And she was sure. At last she was sure. Beautiful, he’d called her, through and through, and everything a man could wish for. She hadn’t expected to be his first lass and it had made what had happened all the more special when he’d told her he’d only had the odd bit of slap and tickle with other lasses, that he’d been keeping himself for the one he married. But that was the sort of man Alf was. She was lucky, she was so, so lucky, and right at this minute she wouldn’t swap places with any other lass in the world. Not even Daisy, beautiful as she was.