Fragile Blossoms

by Dodie Hamilton

  What do I do now, thought Julia? I can’t go back neither can I abandon Bella. One person would help. She changed and went to the post-office where she wired Stefan saying she needed help and would he call at his earliest convenience. It seemed wrong to involve another but what else could she do.

  Needing to see Matty she went to the Lord Nelson. ‘Is Matty well?’

  ‘He’s fine!’ Nan bundled her in through the door, ‘which is more than can be said for you! You look terrible!’

  ‘I didn’t sleep well last night.’ A lock grated in Julia’s ears and a door handle rattled. ‘It was rather noisy.’

  Nan stared. ‘Is that what made you look like this, noise?

  Mute, Julia could only shake her head. Nan questioned the trip, how was the opera, what was it like. Julia described the gowns and the jewels but after a while her account of the evening lacklustre to her own ears she was silent.

  ‘That don’t sound like much,’ said Nan. ‘I reckon I’d get more satisfaction from a brass band playin’ in the park. Will you be going again?’

  ‘I doubt it.’

  ‘Well that’s no bad thing. If you’re runnin’ about with your posh friends you’re not with your lad. You need to find a way to maintain yourself, Anna. Don’t want to lean on others especially if they’re going to let you down.’

  Days passed and Julia began to wonder if offering Bella a home was a mistake. Evelyn Carrington feels things very deeply. She is many people, a woman who loves to give and make others happy, and another woman who drinks and takes pills and flies into a rage, and beats her brother about the head with whatever’s to hand, and threatens servants who displease with instant dismissal; so many people under one skin, which one was uppermost when breathing through keyholes.

  Julia wrote thanking Evie for her many kindnesses. The letter posted she determined to put all thoughts of Russell Square to the past. It is as Nan said she must make her own way.

  Sunday was a long day made longer by peevish servants. Julia could hear them in the kitchen, nothing specific, a general moaning long enough and loud enough to be one moan too many. She rang the bell. There was scuffling outside who should enter first. Caps askew they pushed through the door.

  Julia regarded them. ‘I am presently rethinking my domestic arrangements. As yet my plans are unclear but since any change I make affects you I thought it only fair to warn you.’

  ‘Warn you!’ The words hung in the air. Neither woman spoke. Whatever they planned to say, a long list of petty annoyances, it shrivelled to nought.

  Recognising a warning light Mrs Mac retreated. Maggie was less knowing. ‘Would madam like Master Matthew’s boots polished? They’re a bit scuffed. And did madam know Maggie takes Kaiser for his evening walk and gets him to do his business.’ After a while even Mrs Mac joined the clamour. ‘Had madam noticed the rearranging of the sitting-room, all getting along famously?’

  Three or four similar visits were attempted until they grew weary and went to bed no doubt feeling they’d pleaded their case long enough. Julia doubts she’ll keep either, Bella, if found, must be given first choice.

  Six am the bedroom door burst open and in bounced Matty and the dog. ‘Kaiser talks Mumma.’

  ‘Get him off the bed, dear heart. His paws are muddy.’

  ‘But he talks to me and I talk to him!’

  ‘I’m sure you do. Now remember Kaiser is to be your dog! You must take care of him and feed him and not let him dig the flower boarders.’

  Matty ran off. ‘I’m going for my bath with Oldie Mother Hubbard.’

  Mrs Mac is a seasoned warrior. Espying an opportunity she every morning prepares Matty’s bath and supervises his dressing. Matty likes it. Oldie Hubbard, as he calls her, reads him a fairy story. Maggie began to mend her ways. She is quiet in the kitchen, the board is scrubbed and the flag-stones polished. Breakfast is calm, a boiled egg and clean fingers of toast served with a napkin, Maggie’s cap a starched sunflower about her face.

  Julia was in the garden pulling early broad beans when Luke came by.

  ‘Good day to you, Mrs Dryden.’

  ‘Good day to you.’

  ‘A grand day.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Though it promises rain.’

  ‘So I believe.’

  Arms folded he stood watching. The basket at her feet filling Julia carried on picking. ‘Everything alright?’ he said at length, ‘nothing wrong with Matty?’

  ‘He’s fine and with Mrs McLaughlin. I believe she intends giving him lessons.’

  ‘Does she? That’ll be good for him. He likes to learn.’

  Julia kept her glance down. ‘You think so?’

  ‘I do. He needs to be kept busy. There’s a decent school in Lower Bakers but then I expect you’ll be thinking of a private tutor.’

  ‘The thought had crossed my mind.’

  ‘I suppose one-to-one is better if the man is right.’

  ‘Yes, he’d have to be right.’

  Luke was silent. ‘I finished the front parlour,’ then he said. ‘It needs to dry out and then it will look better stolen wallpaper and all.’

  ‘I have seen it.’ Julia knew he attempted to make her smile and was sorry she couldn’t oblige. ‘I am pleased with your work. I would recommend you to anyone. Perhaps you, or Albert, would let me have a final reckoning.’

  ‘There’s no rush.’ Again there was a long silence. ‘You’ll let me know if there is anything you want doing no matter how small.’

  ‘Thank you, I will.’

  Still he looked and still he frowned. Then he gestured. ‘Pick from the top. If you don’t, you’ll be left with leathery beans.’ He was gone striding away.

  His visit hurt but she didn’t know why.

  Julia is going through the closet removing items given by Evie. It would be churlish to return them but neither can they in good conscience be worn. By midday the closet was thinned to Cambridge days. She kept the woollen coat because she needed it, the jacquard skirt because it was ripped, and two pairs of boots. Item after costly item was consigned to the loft. Many items familiar to her time in Russell Square Mrs Mac must have wondered what was happening. Julia didn’t explain. Other than to think she didn’t deserve them her reasons were unclear. Fine feathers depleted she was revealed as a modest house sparrow.

  In the end Mrs Mac gave way to curiosity. ‘Are they all to go, madam?’

  ‘More or less.’

  ‘What the summer stuff as well and us just coming into it?’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  ‘What about the furs? You’re surely not bunging them up there.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘But they’ll get the moth! Why don’t you put them into cold storage? Lady Carrington does with hers.’

  ‘That costs money.’

  ‘It does but you must do something. If not airtight you’ll lose them.

  ‘Then I shall have to lose them.’

  Mrs Mac eyed Julia’s apron and worn frock and made a decision. ‘Perhaps we could do what others do wrap them in oilskin and box them clear of the rest.’

  They crouched under beams. Side-by-side in confined space, Julia with bare arms and soot-marked cheeks, Mrs Mac became chatty. ‘It’s a bit cramped in here, isn’t it? We’d have more room if I shifted those wicker tables.’

  ‘Yes they could go. We shan’t need them.’

  ‘What are they exactly?’

  ‘I suspect they were used when the cottage was a tea-shop.’

  ‘A tea-shop? You mean this used to be like Lyons Corner House in Piccadilly?’

  ‘A more humble version I imagine.’

  ‘Well I never! You know it’s in all the newspapers, Joe Lyons opening these places. They have waitresses in dark frocks and white aprons. I did wonder back in Russell Square whether I might apply.’

/>   ‘It’s a thought. Can we put the shoes in that rack?’

  ‘Yes, madam. Though thinking about it, waitressing I mean, it’s young women they’re after and I’m not as young as I was.’

  ‘None of us are! Oh, Mrs Mac! I think I hear the doorbell!’

  The horse on the cab steaming and Stefan perspiring; it was obvious he’d rushed to be here. His first concern was for Matty. ‘Is Matthew ill?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Stefan, I should’ve said it’s not about Matty.’

  ‘Thank God! I would’ve come sooner but I was away.’

  ‘Dear Stefan! How thoughtless of me. I have worried you.’

  ‘I am glad you called. That you felt able to turn to me is what I would want.’

  Julia offered only brief details about Bella’s difficulties. That he didn’t enquire further suggested he’d already been apprised of the situation.

  ‘Can you help?’

  He perused the address. ‘I know this area. It is no trouble to go there. What do you want for this girl when I find her?’

  ‘I thought she might come here.’

  ‘In what capacity?’

  ‘None particularly, to be here, I suppose, with the rest of us misfits.’

  ‘Misfits?’ He smiled. ‘Is that how you see yourself?’

  ‘Today I do.’

  ‘You are not happy. Something other than this has made you sad.’

  ‘I have offended Lady Carrington. I offered Bella a place without consulting her and now as I speak I realise I was wrong to involve you. You are friends. I’ve drawn you into a situation where you too may possibly offend.’

  Stefan shrugged a Gallic gesture which sat strangely on stiff Germanic shoulders. ‘Friendship is important. One must value friends but one must value honesty above friendship. I shall bring you your Bella. However,’ he paused, ‘being aware of your straightened circumstances you’ll forgive me asking how you propose to support the new misfits.’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Julia gazed out of the window. Matty had grown tired of the schoolroom and was playing with the dog. As she watched he ran across the yard and fell Mrs Mac swooping to kiss his tears away. ‘Maybe I should do as the Newman sisters did, make the cottage into a tea-shop and serve my patrons all that is needed and necessary.’

  ‘Bitte?’ Stefan frowned. ‘Needed and necessary?’

  ‘The ladies sold tea and then by all accounts turned the place into a cafe and from a cafe to a shop selling all sorts of things. I could turn the cottage into a miniature Lyons Corner House and as well as doling out sugar buns offer tea and sympathy, a hug for a headache and a kiss for a bruised knee. In short everything needed and necessary to make a person feel better.’

  ‘I’m certain such a place would prove a success,’ said Stefan. ‘Like Herr Lyon you’d soon be opening a chain of tea-shops. One thought? Yesterday I paid sixpence for a helping of apple strudel. In offering love and kindness as dish of the day you’ll need to organise a different tariff. How would you do it?’

  Julia smiled. ‘I’d have to make it up as I went along. Maybe introduce a swapping system, you know, a portion of strudel for an unblocked chimney.’

  ‘Ah yes, payment in kind. It is how people used to live.’

  ‘It was certainly how my father lived.’

  Stefan nodded. ‘You must do this and make your tea-shop a loving thing. Times change, we grow old, and yet the need for love is ever with us.’ His smile faded. ‘One thing I wish to know, Julianna, what price for a broken heart? What on God’s good earth could you charge for that?’

  She didn’t mean it to happen. Now sitting at the window staring out into the warm night Julia couldn’t believe she kissed Stefan. Truly, she couldn’t help it. His face was so bewildered and sad she couldn’t bear to see it. She kissed him, and he, gently and beseechingly, kissed her back. Does she regret the kiss? No, though she might regret accepting financial backing of the tea-shop.

  ‘Let me do this for you,’ he’d begged. ‘I have no one for whom I can care! Bitte, Julianna, let me help you and Matthew. It would give me such pleasure.’

  How do you deny that? How do you look into suffering eyes and say ‘I’m sorry. Today I stored box-upon-box of obligation up in the loft. I don’t believe I should ever again attach my soul in that way ever again.’ How could she say that when the giver was anxious to give, his lips trembling and his arms a ring of suffering steel.

  Julia accepted his backing but made no rules. That kiss broke the rules. It’s too late to close the door. The horse might not have bolted but the stable door is open and he cuts the air with flashing hooves.

  Midnight and the moon huge in the sky she was woken by stones clicking against glass. Pulling on a robe she pushed the window wide and once again looked down at Luke Roberts.

  He beckoned. ‘Come down, Julia,’ he whispered.

  She shook her head.

  ‘Do come down,’ he said urgently. ‘I need to speak to you.’

  Heart beating madly she clutched at the windowsill.

  The night was so still and quiet. Nothing moved, not the trees rustling, nor the birds shifting under eaves, and not even the cloud back of the sky. All hung motionless and on tiptoe waiting to see what she would do.

  ‘You sent a telegram. You said it was an emergency and you needed help.’ He shrugged. ‘You can’t keep anything private in this place. Everyone knows you sent it. I need to know what help you need so please come down and tell me.’

  Knuckles white she clung to the sill.

  ‘If you’re in trouble I can help, dearest dear,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing in the world I wouldn’t do for you. I love you, Anna. I love you like crazy! My heart beats for you and you alone. Please come down.’

  Oh and she wanted to! She wanted to leap over the sill and fall down onto his arms! But she couldn’t. It is too late. He is too late!

  ‘Anna!’

  ‘Why?’ Shoulders naked and satiny breast resting on green laurel she leaned down. ‘Why now?’ she begged, the words hurting her mouth. ‘A little earlier, a minute or a second, and it would’ve been alright. Now it’s too late.’

  ‘What do you mean too late? What has happened to make it so?’ He pushed his fingers through his hair. ‘Anna! Julianna, please!’

  ‘No,’ she shook her head. ‘You must go away. You’re too late.’

  She closed the window.

  Six

  Gifts from the Dead

  Bella, or rather Susan, as she turned out to be, arrived Friday evening. A hansom cab and a cart drove into the yard. All eyes and bump she stepped down from the hansom. Julia motioned her in. ‘Is this your box?’

  Susan shook her head. ‘No, it belongs to him as fetched me.’

  Stefan coughed. ‘It’s a few things to help you settle. No doubt Mrs Dryden will give all she deems necessary.’

  Overawed, Susan blinked at him and he overweight Angel doling out blessings blinked back. ‘There’s more,’ he said, porters heaving metal trunks from the cart. ‘I’ll wait while they unload and then be on my way.’

  ‘But Stefan all this way, won’t you wait awhile?’ said Julia.

  ‘You have things to do. I shall not presume.’

  She touched his hand. ‘You could never presume.’

  ‘I must go.’ He made a sad moue. ‘I am needed in Bradbury.’

  They talked briefly of Karoline, how it is soon to be her fiftieth birthday and of Stefan’s plans. Julia kissed his cheek. ‘Give her my love and tell her I shall visit.’

  Stefan stepped into the hansom and was gone. He left a letter. ‘This is Susan Dudley. It appears Lady Carrington prefers body maids to be known by the one name Bella. I brought Susan in the hush of the evening to save unnecessary neighbourly interest. Small towns have codes of conduct. They are not to be breached. On that subject I shall endeavour to make my visit
s few and far between and always in glare of day. One’s good name is easily lost and slow to replace. As a man who now happily claims the status of friend I will try not to overstep the boundaries of good manners and create for you difficulties.

  I wish you every joy and every heart’s ease,

  I am always your most humble servant,

  Stefan Willem Adelmann.

  Along with the letter were details of a monthly sum transferred in her name to a local bank. Having seen the statement, and trembled at the generosity, Julia resolved to draw as little as possible.

  The following morning she called at the bank and then to the Nelson.

  Nan seemed rather cool. ‘You left your back door unlocked last night.’

  ‘Did I?’

  ‘You did. Luke found it so and he said not for the first time. ’

  ‘Please thank him and tell him I shall take greater care.’

  ‘Aye do! You don’t want anyone stealin’ from your fancy new tea shop.’

  ‘You’ve heard?’

  ‘Everyone’s heard.’

  ‘And you don’t think it a good idea?’

  ‘I do not. You’ve no experience runnin’ a place like that. Caterin’ is hard graft, twenty-four hours a day non-stop. Take it from one who knows.’

  ‘If the Newman sisters can do it why not me?’

  ‘Because you’re not cut out for it! I’ve heard Miss Clarissa was built like a carthorse and though they were sisters she didn’t share Justine good looks. She was a big woman with hips wide as canal boats. It was her did the heavy work and there is heavy work feedin’ folk.’

  ‘I know it will be hard.’

  ‘I hope you do. There were two of them. You’ve none but yourself.’

  ‘I can manage. You forget I looked after my father. A man whose wits are wandering needs a great deal of care.’

  ‘Yes and your father’s the reason you shouldn’t be doin’ it! You’re a vicar’s daughter not a person in trade!’