Candles in the Storm

by Rita Bradshaw

  Daisy went in to see Miss Wilhelmina immediately and, selfish and demanding as the old lady could be at times, her mistress said Harold must drive Daisy home straightaway and she should stay with her grandmother until Nellie was better.

  ‘I’ll get a temporary nurse in for a while,’ Wilhelmina said briskly, ‘so don’t give a moment’s thought to me, Daisy. Let me know how things are when you can, dear, and rest assured your job will be waiting for you when you can return. And anything your grandmother needs, see that she gets it and charge any expenditure to me.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Daisy looked at the grand old lady whose frail little body seemed lost in the vivid pink bed, and on impulse she reached out her hands and grasped those of Wilhelmina, saying softly, ‘You’ve been so good to me and I do appreciate it.’

  ‘Go on with you.’ The wrinkled face under the outrageous silk bonnet smiled wryly. ‘I am a perverse old woman and we both know it. However, it must be said you put up with me well, child, and I like to think it is not wholly because you are paid to do so.’

  ‘It’s because I care about you.’ No. That wasn’t enough. ‘Because I love you.’

  Wilhelmina did not come back with one of the dry retorts Daisy had expected. Instead the scrawny throat worked convulsively and the grip on Daisy’s hands tightened. ‘Bless you, dear.’ Daisy felt herself being pulled into her mistress’s embrace and held close for a moment or two, and then, with a sniff, the old lady said, ‘Now you get yourself home to your grandmother and I’ll see you soon.’

  Daisy was aware her mistress’s face was wet and also that the proud old lady would hate her to mention it, so she just squeezed Wilhelmina’s hands one more time before she straightened. ‘I’ll send word once I know how things are.’

  ‘You do that, child.’

  When Daisy entered the kitchen Gladys was about to take a tea tray through to Miss Wilhelmina. Daisy wasted no words on preliminaries. ‘I haven’t informed the mistress we had an intruder in the house last night but you try anything like that again and I’ll make sure you’re out on your ear. Is that clear? Now tell Harold to get the horse and carriage ready. He’s driving Alf and me home.’ She left Gladys speechless for once.

  It was snowing again when Wilhelmina’s carriage, driven by a silent Harold, deposited Daisy and Alf in Sea Lane, the road to the Bents being accessible only by foot due to drifts of snow some six or seven foot deep either side of the narrow path which had been cleared.

  Enid was sitting with Nellie when Daisy walked into the cottage, Tilly having her work cut out to keep the little ones occupied and away from the sick woman, and for once Daisy’s first glance wasn’t for little Tommy.

  Nellie stirred and slowly opened her eyes as Daisy bent over her, holding her granddaughter’s gaze as she said, ‘I’m here, Gran, and Miss Wilhelmina said I can stay until you’re well again. That was nice of her, wasn’t it? So you can just rest now and I’ll take care of everything, all right?’

  The old woman struggled to speak, her mouth opening but only an unintelligible gurgle emerging.

  ‘Don’t try and talk, Gran, not now,’ said Daisy softly. ‘The doctor said you need to rest and then you’ll be as right as rain in a week or two.’

  Nellie’s mouth had closed but her desperate eyes told Daisy her grandmother knew she was lying. Now Daisy took one of her granny’s gnarled hands, holding it tight as she said, ‘You will get better, Gran, I shall make sure you do.’

  She had promised herself she wouldn’t cry in front of her granny, but when a tear welled up in Nellie’s eye and slid down the wrinkled cheek, Daisy couldn’t keep her composure. She bent closer, laying her head next to Nellie’s as she said, ‘Don’t worry, Gran, we’ll get through this together like we’ve got through everything else. Now you mustn’t upset yourself ’cos that won’t help.’ In reply to the mute plea she had read in the rheumy eyes Daisy added, ‘And I shall stay with you every minute, I promise. Every minute, Gran. I’ll bring a mattress down, like we did for William, do you remember? And I’ll sleep down here.’

  Nellie’s eyes closed again but Daisy didn’t raise her head until she was sure the old woman was asleep. Then she stood up slowly, walking across to where Tilly stood holding Tommy who had been crying on and off for the last few minutes because he wanted her. She took the child into her arms, murmuring words of comfort to him. Over his brown curls her eyes held Tilly’s.

  ‘He said it’s bad, lass, the doctor. All her left side’s gone an’ she’s not got the strength to move, and barely to swallow. Cuthbert said I can use his cottage in the day for the bairns an’ just bring ’em back here to sleep of a night if that’d help? Or do you want me here with you in case . . . well, you know,’ she finished awkwardly.

  ‘No, you take the bairns out of it.’

  ‘I’ll come of a mornin’ an’ stay until Tilly brings the bairns back, lass.’ Enid had joined them, her voice quiet. ‘Kitty can look after Alf all right, she’s a good lass.’

  ‘You don’t have to, Mrs Hardy.’

  ‘Oh, aye, I do, lass. Me an’ your granny . . . Oh, aye, I do.’

  It was the first time Daisy had ever seen Alf’s mother cry. She put her free arm round the older woman who did the same to her, and then Tilly was holding them too, Tommy squashed between the three women who all had wet faces.

  ‘Eeh, your gran wouldn’t want this.’ Enid was the first to pull away, wiping her face with her apron. ‘I’ll make us a nice sup tea, shall I? An’ your mistress is good, lass, an’ no mistake, lettin’ you come like this. I’ve never had no time for the gentry to be truthful with you, but it seems there’s good an’ bad in all walks of life, eh, lass?’

  ‘That’s very true, Mrs Hardy.’

  ‘Aye, aye, it is an’ all. No one could say the Frasers haven’t been fair with you after you pulled their lad out of the water, an’ they seem to think a bit of you.’

  Daisy could have answered this in many ways but what she did say was, ‘Miss Wilhelmina is one of the kindest people I’ve ever come across although she doesn’t strike you as such until you get to know her.’

  But as for the rest of the family . . . The memory of the previous evening flashed through Daisy’s head for a second before she put it out of her mind. She was here to take care of her granny and that was what she was going to do. She wouldn’t let herself think about Francis Fraser for one moment. He was loathsome, filthy, and if she never saw him again in the whole of her life it would be too soon. But strangely, in spite of the disgusting things he had said and tried to do, it was the fact that he had confirmed her secret fear that William would never come back to England that had hurt the most.

  ‘Cecilia, are you sure we are doing the right thing if we say anything? You know how Aunt Wilhelmina dotes on the girl.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Cecilia glared at her sister. ‘Don’t be so dim, Felicity. Uncle Francis only confirmed what I have been thinking for ages. The fishergirl is determined to get the lot when Aunt Wilhelmina goes, and you know she was going to leave everything to us. Uncle says it’s common knowledge among her servants that the baggage has inveigled her way in by blackening our names. Uncle’s right - Aunt Wilhelmina won’t like being abandoned in favour of the girl’s grandmother and it’s been four days since she’s been gone. Now is the time to strike. We’ll just go in with the Christmas presents and make conversation, and when the time’s right we’ll tell her exactly what her precious companion is really like. I’m sure Aunt knows nothing about the girl having a child or carrying on with William and hundreds of others.’

  Felicity looked unhappily at her sister. Cecilia was always so sure she was right, and Uncle Francis had managed to fire her up about the fishergirl so she had been beside herself the last day or two. But it was no use saying anything more.

  Silence reigned until the carriage drew up on the packed snow outside the front door of Evenley House, whereupon the coachman jumped to the ground and opened the door for Sir Augustus’s daughters. Although Do
nald Vickers hadn’t been able to hear anything which had been said on the journey, his relationship with Ellen Mullen meant he knew the real reason for this visit a week before Christmas.

  Once the two women had entered the house Donald settled himself down for a long wait. Normally Sir Augustus’s daughters only stayed for an hour at most when they visited their aunt, but if they were about the business of ousting the fishergirl they might be a lot longer. Just his luck, Donald thought, with the wind enough to cut you in two and the air so cold it stung your throat.

  He needn’t have worried. The carriage was on its way home again within fifteen minutes.

  Gladys and Harold sat staring at each other over the kitchen table, the wicker armchairs in front of the range empty for once. There’d be no relaxing and toasting his toes with a plate of Gladys’s girdle scones on his lap this night, Harold thought despondently. Gladys was in a right tear and no mistake. Mind, it wasn’t right whatever way you looked at it; if Maud hadn’t been up to her eyes black-leading the kitchen range when the mistress’s nieces had called, him and Gladys would be none the wiser as to Miss Wilhelmina’s intentions.

  As though her husband had spoken out loud, Gladys now said, ‘We’d know nowt about this if I hadn’t taken the tea trolley along when I did an’ heard what was goin’ on inside afore I opened the door. You realise that, don’t you? All these years of workin’ me fingers to the bone an’ it counts for nowt with the mistress. An’ the way she went for her own flesh an’ blood . . . you ought to have heard her! She told ’em straight she was goin’ to change her will an’ leave it all to the fishergirl. That’s what was in that letter she had you take to the solicitor after they’d gone, sure as eggs are eggs. An’ once he’s knocked on the door an’ it’s done legal like, it’s done for good. You know that, Harold, don’t you?’

  Gladys’s voice had grown shriller in the face of her husband’s apparent lack of response. All Harold said, as he’d done several times during the evening, was, ‘Nothing you or I could say’ll change matters, lass, so it’s no use fretting.’

  ‘No use!’ Gladys glared at him. ‘The mistress all but told me there was something in her will for us, in the days afore that baggage arrived, an’ I’m not losin’ what’s rightfully mine. As I see it there’s only one course of action left open to us.’

  ‘Oh, aye?’ It was clear Harold hadn’t got Gladys’s vision.

  ‘Come mornin’ Maud’ll be here, an’ the nurse’ll be downstairs. The solicitor’s comin’ at ten, you say? It’ll be too late to do anythin’ then.’ Harold’s face remained blank until his wife added, ‘She’s only got a few weeks left in her anyway accordin’ to the doctor.’

  ‘You . . . you don’t . . .’ Words failed him.

  ‘A pillow over her face for a minute an’ it’s done, finished. Everyone’ll assume her heart’s finally given out. She’ll know nowt about it if it’s done while she’s asleep an’ it’s the kindest thing to my mind, rather than let her carry on like she is.’

  If Harold had spoken out what was in his mind at this point he would have said, ‘You’re mad - stark staring mad, woman,’ but the qualities which had made Gladys choose him as a partner caused him to swallow hard before he said weakly, his head drooping to one side, ‘Lass, I’m not sayin’ I don’t know how you feel an’ you’ve bin treated shameful, no doubt about it, but . . . I couldn’t. I’m sorry, lass, but I couldn’t do it.’

  Gladys’s lips pursed and she brought her beefy shoulders up. ‘Aye, well, that’s as may be, but I could. I’ve had that little madam up to the eyeballs an’ I’m blowed if I’ll stand by and do nowt so she can thumb her nose at us when she gets everythin’.’

  Harold raised his head and stared at his wife and she returned his look, her eyes having taken on a steely quality. By, she frightened him, she scared him half to death! Talking about doing away with the old lady, and all the while as cool as a cucumber.

  ‘So? You comin’ along there with me because now’s as good a time as any, an’ I’ll do it if you’re too lilylivered. ’

  Harold didn’t know which scared him the most: the thought of being in the room while Gladys did the deed or refusing to accompany her. After a few seconds his wife took his silence to mean he was staying put and after one narrow-eyed glance didn’t waste time on further words. She stood up, smoothing her apron and adjusting her mob cap, and left the room. How long Harold sat there he didn’t know, but when Gladys entered the kitchen again he was surprised when she smiled at him, her voice the same as ever as she said, ‘Get the teapot out, lad, an’ we’ll have a brew, an’ I’ll do you a batch of girdle cakes to go with it. You’re always peckish this time of night, aren’t you?’

  He didn’t think he would ever be hungry again. As a possible reason for his wife’s geniality dawned, Harold said hopefully, ‘You didn’t go through with it then?’

  Gladys didn’t answer him, at least not verbally, but as she turned from the range and her eyes met his, he read her reply from the expression on her face, and it was satisfaction.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  But for a visit by the clerk employed by Wilhelmina’s solicitor, Daisy would not have heard about her mistress’s death until after the old lady’s funeral had come and gone. However, the solicitor in question was a kindly man and as astute as any in his profession. He had got to know Daisy on his monthly visits to Wilhelmina, and accurately gauged something of the atmosphere existing between his client’s young companion and the older members of Wilhelmina’s staff.

  His December appointment had coincided with the day of Daisy’s departure from the house, and after receiving Wilhelmina’s letter and then the news of her death half-an-hour before he had been due to leave for Evenley House, he had been unsettled in mind enough to decide a visit by his clerk to the girl’s current abode was in order. If she had already been informed about her employer’s demise that was well and good; if not, then at least he had done his duty to his client who had looked on the girl more as a daughter than an employee. He had half been expecting Wilhelmina to alter her will in favour of the girl for months, but then - as he had told his clerk after explaining the reason for the visit - the old lady had not liked to reflect on her eventual demise.

  Daisy had sat quietly by Nellie’s bed for a long while after the clerk had gone, the tears running down her face as the old woman slept. Miss Wilhelmina had gone, and she hadn’t been there to hold the old lady’s hand and do whatever she could. Now it was too late. The only comfort she had was that the doctor seemed sure her mistress had gone in her sleep without knowing anything about it, and she hoped, oh, she did so hope that was true. She had to believe that, had to cling on to it.

  She said as much to Kitty when her friend came to sit with her for a while, Alf’s mother being indisposed with a stomach upset.

  ‘I’m sure she didn’t know a thing about it, lass,’ Kitty said comfortingly, ‘and if you’ve got to go it’s not a bad way, is it, in your sleep?’ They sat quietly for a few moments beside the sleeping Nellie whose breathing was barely discernible. ‘What’s the betting we hear nowt from me mam an’ da about the mistress going. Spiteful so-an’sos. You say the clerk said the funeral’s on Wednesday?’

  Daisy nodded. ‘The day before Christmas Eve. Apparently it’s a short laying-out because of its being Christmas and all the services arranged.’

  Up until this moment in time Daisy had said nothing of what had occurred with Francis Fraser, but suddenly she felt the need to tell Kitty all of it including the part her parents had played in the proceedings. The other girl listened intently, and when Daisy finished with, ‘So I think you were spot on with your prediction we’ll hear nothing from your parents,’ Kitty stared at her, wide-eyed.

  ‘By, lass . . .’ The words seemed to have required all the effort Kitty was capable of, because now she sat back on the hard wooden saddle, her mouth still slightly agape and her head moving from side to side in disgust. ‘The old devil,’ she managed eventually. ‘
To do something like that to another woman.’

  Daisy nodded. She had no doubt that Gladys would make sure the door to Evenley House was now firmly closed to her. Suddenly what had been a temporary stay in the village was a permanent one, and it was a funny feeling. She loved her granny and her brothers and all the folk she had grown up with, but she didn’t feel a part of the community in the same way as before however hard she tried. And she had tried over the last days.

  ‘I’m going to go to Miss Wilhelmina’s funeral, Kitty, whatever anyone might say about it not being decent. I . . . I have to. Would you sit with Gran if Alf’s mam isn’t better by then?’