The Best of Sisters

by Dilly Court

  The fact that Daisy accepted their presence at all was, as Eliza soon realised, because they were proving useful to her in running the establishment. She had willingly relinquished her role of housekeeper to Eliza, and she had not put forward any objection to the Little family’s moving into the basement rooms. In fact she had appeared delighted to have an unpaid servant in Ada, who did most of the cooking. Sukey had been relegated to the position of scullery maid, which had caused a few fights until Eliza was forced to intervene and put her in her place.

  Despite her apparent generosity to the Littles, Daisy had been uncompromising when it came to Mille, insisting that she took on the duties of unpaid housemaid. Millie never complained, but there was enough work to keep a small army of servants occupied, and at night she fell into her bed so exhausted that she was asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow. Eliza helped her as much as she could, and she held her tongue, something that she was becoming used to nowadays, but it distressed her to see Millie wearing herself to a shadow with hard work. This state of affairs could not be allowed to drag on for long, but, in the meantime, and until she could think of an alternative, they must make the best of things. At least Daisy seemed to tolerate Dolly, mainly, Eliza thought, because Tommy had taken such a liking to her and they played the royal game together. If she was the housekeeper and Millie the skivvy, then Dolly was the uncrowned queen of the nursery.

  After their hurried departure from Hemp Yard, Freddie had enlisted the help of Arnold and Dippy Dan to move everything out of the house, making several journeys with the dog cart until Dolly’s bits and pieces of furniture were safely removed to Dark House Street. As Arnold and Dan were now without work, Brandon having made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with them, Freddie’s soft heart was touched and he allowed Arnold to bring his aged mother and install her in the loft above the stables. Dan slept on a pile of straw in the stall next to Nugget and both of them seemed happy with the arrangement.

  Huddled in the thick folds of an old cloak that had belonged to Daisy, and that she now considered too old-fashioned and shabby for her smart person, Eliza was grateful for its warmth as she walked along the quay wall. It was February, and a cold north wind brought with it spikes of sleet. The gunmetal-grey clouds promised snow later, but Eliza was oblivious of the weather, content simply to be out of the house for a while. She needed time to think and to work out a plan for their removal from Dark House Street.

  They had been living in Freddie’s house for almost three months now, and although she was earning her keep, Eliza felt that she was living on charity and she hated it. She tried to like Daisy, who for all her faults was neither unkind nor unfeeling, but Eliza could not bear to see her going upstairs at night with Freddie. She had discovered that they had separate rooms, but whether he left his own bed to visit Daisy was an unsolved mystery. Sometimes, in the small hours of the morning when she could not sleep, Eliza was certain that she heard footsteps padding along the corridor directly above her room. Tormented by her own imaginings, she tried desperately to think of a way in which she could get back her business and become independent, but a solution always evaded her.

  Freddie had instructed his solicitor to take on the case, but fighting the Millers through the courts would be costly and probably doomed from the outset. Eliza could only hope that the solicitor might find a small loophole in the law that would allow her at least to keep the house in Bird Street. Brandon had taken possession of it, but, so far, nothing had been legally assigned to him. With the dwelling in Dark House Street so full now, Eliza worried that Freddie’s generosity was getting in the way of whatever plans he had made to earn a living. She had no idea how much money he had, but she couldn’t help feeling that his casual attitude to his dwindling fortune would soon bankrupt him.

  A gust of wind snatched the hood from her head, tugging at her hair and tweaking long strands from the combs that held it in place. She paused for a moment, brushing a stray lock from her eyes and staring down into the roiling waters of the Thames, thick and dark as bitter chocolate. It was only mid-afternoon but the winter dusk had already gobbled up the far bank of the river, and the masts of ships loomed high above her, piercing the lowering clouds. It was not the sort of weather to be out in, but Eliza needed time on her own. She had left Tommy playing the royal game with Dolly and, at the thought of him, she found herself smiling.

  The one good thing to come out of her enforced stay in Dark House Street was that she had grown close to Bart’s son. She had come to know and love Tommy and had slowly won his trust and, she hoped, his affection. Daisy was not a bad mother, but she seemed more interested in striving towards respectability and making a place for herself amongst the wives of City merchants. This entailed going out to tea with her wealthy acquaintances, spending a lot of money on new gowns and bonnets, and taking hackney cabs when she could easily have walked the short distance to their homes.

  As Eliza stared down into the turbulent water, a lamplighter hurried along the quay using his long pole to ignite the gas lamps. They fizzed and popped, flickering inside their glass prisons like trapped sunbeams and making eerie reflections on the water. Eliza shivered as she recalled her childish fantasy that there were dead people beneath the ripples, holding up lanterns to light their way to the afterlife. She walked on, briskly this time, towards a tea clipper that was in the process of being unloaded. As she drew closer to the huge ship, she could just make out the name on its bows and her heart did a bunny hop inside her chest. Keeping well out of the way of the cranes and the men going about their work, she stepped over cables and chains, shielding her eyes against the driving sleet. Then she saw him. Coming down the gangplank with his ditty bag slung over his shoulder. She would have recognised him anywhere.

  ‘Davy. Davy.’ She broke into a run, leaping coils of rope and dodging in between oak barrels. He had seen her. Davy dropped his bag on the cobbles and held out his arms. Eliza threw herself into them and clung to him, laughing and crying at the same time. He was holding her so tightly that she could scarcely breathe. He was stroking her hair and he kissed her on the forehead and then the tip of her nose. He smelt of salt water, oiled wool and tea.

  ‘Liza, my little Liza.’ Davy’s voice cracked with emotion and then he frowned. ‘What the hell are you doing here on your own?’

  Eliza wrapped her arms around his waist, looking up into his tanned face. ‘I’m not alone any more, Davy. You’re here. You’re home. I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you.’

  ‘Move along, cully. You’re in the way.’

  A gravelly voice from behind them made Davy turn his head. ‘Sorry, mate,’ he said, grinning, ‘but I haven’t seen me girl for six months or more.’

  ‘No, Davy. Don’t get me wrong.’ Eliza pulled free, realising to her horror that he had mistaken her genuine pleasure on seeing him for something deeper.

  He looked down at her and smiled. ‘That were a welcome fit for a king. It’s almost worth being away for more than half a year to come back to that.’ He bent down and picked up his ditty bag. ‘Come on, darling, let’s go home.’

  ‘Davy, wait.’ Eliza laid her hand on his arm. As if it weren’t bad enough that she had given him false hope, now she must tell him that his family had lost their home and that they were all living on Freddie’s charity. She took a deep breath. ‘Davy, I got to tell you something.’

  As they walked, arm in arm, Eliza told him everything that had happened since he had left Wapping. It was almost dark by the time they reached Freddie’s house and, typical of his disregard for economy, light spilled from all the windows. Sounds of children’s voices emanated from the basement area and young Artie was hanging by his breeches from one of the area railings, blue in the face and shouting for help. Davy quickened his pace and lifted his brother to safety. ‘It’s lucky that spike didn’t go right through your bum, you young rascal.’

  Artie stared up at him with tear stains leaving trails down his dirty face. ‘Davy? Is it reall
y you?’

  ‘It’s me all right, young ’un. Now what was you doing playing the fool with rusty iron railings?’

  ‘Trying to see what was going on in the house. They got a fire halfway up the chimney and that kid, Tommy, he has cake to eat every single blooming day.’

  Before Davy could answer, the door to the servants’ entrance was flung open and Ada stuck her head out. ‘Artie, what’s going on? Sammy says you’d got yourself stuck through like a joint on a spit. Oh, my Gawd! Davy, is that you up there?’

  Davy set Artie on the ground and ran down the area steps to hug his mother. ‘It’s me all right, duchess. Come home from the sea and mighty glad to be ashore.’

  Eliza stood at the top of the steps, ignoring the sleet that had turned to large, feathery snowflakes, mindless of the cold striking up through the thin soles of her boots and smiling at the sight of Ada and Davy hugging each other. Sammy was clinging to Davy’s legs and nine-year-old Eddie looked on as if he wanted to join in, but considered himself a bit too grown-up.

  ‘Oh, Davy, Davy,’ Ada said, laughing and crying at the same time. ‘I can’t believe you’re home.’

  ‘Well, I am, Ma. Home and not particularly eager to go away again.’ Davy glanced over her shoulder. ‘Where’s the old man?’

  ‘Your dad’s gone back to the mission. It’s a long story, ducks. I’ll explain later.’ Ada mopped her eyes on the corner of her apron. ‘Here’s me going on, like a silly old thing, and you standing out here in the blooming snow. Come inside out of the cold. I’ve just made a brew of tea and we’ve got a nice bit of brawn for supper.’

  ‘That’ll do a treat, Ma.’ Davy hefted Sammy onto his shoulder and as he was about to follow Ada inside he glanced up at Eliza. ‘Come on down, Liza.’

  She shook her head. ‘I must tell everyone that you’re home safe and sound.’ Sensing that he was about to argue, she blew him a kiss. ‘We’ll get together later and celebrate.’ As the door closed on them, Eliza ran up the steps and let herself into the entrance hall. Her first thought was to find Millie and tell her the good news. But it was Freddie who came to meet her with a look of concern on his face. He helped her off with the cloak that was heavy with melting snow. ‘What on earth were you doing walking out alone and in this sort of weather?’

  Eliza brushed strands of wet hair back from her forehead. ‘Don’t scold, Freddie. I just went for a walk, and guess who I met?’

  He tossed her cloak onto a chair. ‘Someone special I should think, my dear, judging by the flush of your cheeks and the sparkle in your eyes.’

  ‘Davy’s come home. Isn’t that marvellous?’

  Freddie looked away. ‘Of course. You must be delighted. I’m happy for you, Liza.’

  The bleak note in his voice struck Eliza like a punch in the stomach. She wanted to tell him that he had got it all wrong; that it wasn’t for herself that she was pleased, but somehow she could not find the words to express her feelings. She sensed his mood but she could not explain it; she longed to fling her arms around him. She wanted to tell him that she had never loved any man as much as she loved him. But Daisy was coming down the stairs and the moment was lost.

  Freddie turned to her, holding out his hand. ‘Splendid news, Daisy. Eliza’s old sweetheart, Davy Little, has returned from a long sea voyage. We must have a party.’

  ‘No, really,’ Eliza protested. ‘He’s not my—’

  ‘Don’t be bashful, dear,’ Daisy said, running down the remaining stairs and clutching Freddie’s hand. ‘I couldn’t be happier for you. Freddie’s quite right, we must have some rum punch and cake. We’ll invite the whole family to join us, although maybe not the old drunkard. Hopefully he’ll be serving soup at the mission.’

  ‘You’re all heart, Daisy,’ Freddie said, giving her hand a squeeze.

  ‘Oh, you flatterer.’ Daisy cast him an arch look beneath her eyelashes. Her expression hardened as she turned to Eliza. ‘Go and tell Millie to fetch a cake from the bakery and tell Sukey to find the makings for a punch.’

  Eliza made a move towards the kitchen: anything was better than seeing Daisy making up to Freddie. But before she had gone two paces, he called out to her.

  ‘Liza, wait.’

  She stopped, looking back over her shoulder. ‘What is it?’

  ‘We have some important business with my solicitor and I want you to come with me tomorrow morning. I think we may be getting somewhere in our case against the Millers.’

  Daisy gave a crow of delight. ‘Darling, Freddie. Does that mean my little Tommy will get his inheritance?’

  ‘Let’s hope the matter can be settled to everyone’s satisfaction.’

  Unable to stand being in their presence a moment longer, Eliza hurried to the kitchen where she found Millie on her hands and knees, scrubbing the flagstone floor. Sukey stood by the range, stirring a pan of soup in a half-hearted sort of way, and with such a sullen expression on her face that Eliza wanted to slap her. She felt her temper rise at the sight of Millie working her fingers to the bone, and Sukey getting away with doing as little as possible.

  ‘You can leave that,’ Eliza said firmly. ‘Mistress wants you to go to the bakery and buy a cake.’

  Sukey stuck out her bottom lip. ‘But it’s snowing. Can’t she go?’ She pointed the wooden spoon at Millie. ‘I got to mind the lamb stew.’

  Her temper fraying, Eliza picked up a ladle and brandished it at Sukey. ‘Do as you’re told, girl. Or I’ll report you to the missis.’

  Mumbling, Sukey scampered into the scullery, slamming the door behind her.

  ‘Get up, dear,’ Eliza said, bending down and taking the scrubbing brush from Millie’s swollen and mottled fingers, which looked more like raw pork sausages than a human hand. ‘I’ve got some splendid news, but I think you ought to sit down afore I tells you.’

  ‘What is it? Tell me, Liza.’ Millie scrambled to her feet, wiping her hands on her grimy apron.

  Eliza motioned her to sit down. ‘Davy’s come home from sea. He’s with Ada and the nippers this moment.’

  ‘Oh!’ Millie’s eyes rolled upwards and she would have fallen off the chair if Eliza had not grabbed her by the shoulders.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Eliza said, fanning Millie with her free hand. ‘You’ll be fine again in a minute.’

  With her head bowed, Millie buried her face in her chapped hands. ‘It’s not all right. I look a sight. I can’t see him like this. He’ll think I’m a drab.’

  ‘Not if I’ve got anything to do with it, he won’t.’ Eliza dragged her to her feet. ‘You stop that nonsense, Millie. Come with me and we’ll soon have you looking like a proper princess.’

  Daisy’s scarlet gown fitted Millie as if it had been made for her. Standing back to admire her handiwork, Eliza gave a satisfied sigh. ‘You look a treat. Pity we haven’t got a proper mirror.’

  ‘There’s one in Daisy’s room,’ Millie said, with a mischievous grin lighting her face.

  ‘Come on then. I’ll show you what a pretty girl you are, Millie Turner. And, if I say so myself, I’ve done your hair up as good as any lady’s maid.’

  They went upstairs, laughing like naughty schoolgirls. Eliza didn’t care whether Daisy approved or not. This was going to be Millie’s night of triumph. And if Davy needed a bang on the head with a belaying pin to make him see sense, then that was what he would get. It was fortunate that Daisy was not in her room, and Millie was able to primp before the long mirror and admire the change in her appearance. Eliza stood back, saying nothing, but silently congratulating herself on her efforts. They were about to leave when the door opened and Daisy entered. She stopped short, glaring at them, and then she smiled. ‘Well, who would have thought it?’

  ‘We was just going,’ Millie said, blushing. ‘I ain’t never seen meself full-length.’

  ‘Oh, that’s all right. I suppose you both want to impress your young men. The handsome sailor for you, Eliza, and his brother Pete for Millie. Suits me down to the ground and never le
t it be said that Daisy Bragg stood in the way of true love.’ Daisy beckoned to Eliza. ‘Undo me buttons, there’s a dear. I’d ask Freddie but he treats me bedroom like a plague pit. I’ll have to get him drunk on rum punch tonight if I want him to have his wicked way with me, and even then he’ll probably run a mile. I dunno what’s wrong with that man. You’d think he was a bloody monk or something. But maybe tonight my luck will change.’ Chuckling, Daisy turned her back so that Eliza could unbutton her gown.

  Eliza’s fingers shook as she undid the tiny mother-of-pearl buttons. Daisy’s words echoed in her head and she could hardly believe that it was true. Had Freddie really tired of Daisy’s voluptuous charms? That is, if he had ever enjoyed them at all. Or was Daisy simply saying these things to torment her?

  ‘You can go now.’ Daisy whisked away from her, stepping out of the pool of silk. ‘Where’s your wits, girl? Have you lost them, or are you dreaming of your sweetheart?’

  ‘Don’t talk soft,’ Eliza retorted, biting her lip. She had been thinking about Freddie and, for a moment, it almost seemed that Daisy could read her mind. She felt herself blushing and was vaguely aware that Millie was tugging at her hand.

  ‘Ta, Daisy,’ Millie said hastily. ‘Ta for the use of your looking glass. We’ll be off then.’ She dragged Eliza out of the room, closing the door behind them. ‘What’s up, Liza? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

  ‘It’s nothing. I was just surprised that Daisy was being so nice all of a sudden.’

  ‘She thinks you’re sweet on Davy,’ Millie said, picking up her skirts as they reached the top of the staircase. ‘She thinks that with you out of the way then Freddie will want to marry her. Some chance of that!’

  ‘Freddie isn’t interested in me. He still thinks of me as a little girl.’

  ‘Oh, Eliza. Maybe Daisy was right when she said you’d lost your wits. You are a noodle sometimes.’

  ‘What d’you mean by that?’ Eliza demanded, but Millie was already halfway down the sweeping staircase. The sound of voices and laughter was rising up from the entrance hall and Eliza could smell hot rum punch. She reached the wide curve of the staircase in time to hear the gasp of surprise from the assembled party as Millie came into view.