A Place to Call Home

by Evie Grace

  ‘Ma, I wish you had let me stay at home with Minnie.’ Rose was wearing her best bonnet and grey silk dress as they walked along Stour Street, past the alleyways and timber-framed houses. A filthy sludge was slowly seeping along the drains and gullies, but the road itself was dry so there was no need for the skirt-lifter that she kept in her pocket.

  ‘Jane is with her. She has a headache from too much sewing late at night – I know you two have been awake all hours trying to get the patchwork finished.’

  ‘Hush,’ Rose said quickly, looking towards Arthur who was strolling along with his hands in his pockets, his eyes fixed straight ahead as if he was in a world of his own. ‘It’s supposed to be a surprise.’ Her fingers were sore from trying to complete the patchwork in time for the wedding, and she couldn’t see how they would get it done now that Ma had thwarted her plot to stay behind.

  ‘Don’t worry, dear. There’s no cause for alarm over Minnie. It is just a precaution,’ Ma said, taking Rose’s arm. Her wedding ring flashed from her finger – she squeezed it on just once a week for their visit to St Mildred’s.

  ‘My sister pecks at her food like a bird,’ Donald cut in as Pa walked ahead of them. ‘She has always been like this – it’s a storm in a teacup.’

  Rose didn’t think so – there were occasions when Minnie was genuinely unwell. It just happened that this wasn’t one of them.

  ‘Well, I think we should take her to the seaside for some air,’ Pa said over his shoulder. ‘It will do us all good.’

  Rose’s heart leapt. ‘We could go on St Lubbock’s Day – the tannery will be closed.’

  ‘There’ll be no school that day either.’ Donald kicked a stone, bouncing it across the pavement.

  ‘May we go by train, Pa?’ Rose said.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know about that,’ Ma said.

  ‘But we must,’ Pa said. ‘Rose and the twins haven’t travelled by rail before. It will be quite an experience. Agnes, where is your sense of adventure?’

  ‘I’m afraid it has escaped me,’ Ma said as a gaggle of urchins came pelting along the street.

  ‘Watch yourselves!’ Pa bellowed. ‘What do you think you’re doing, tearing about like wild animals on the Sabbath?’

  Four of them raced on past but one stopped.

  ‘Mind your manners. There are ladies present,’ Pa said, and the boy took off his cap.

  It was Baxter.

  ‘M-m-mornin’, sir. Mornin’, Mrs Cheevers. Good day, Miss Cheevers, an’ all,’ he stammered before running off after his friends.

  They carried on along Church Lane where St Mildred’s came into view at the end of a short avenue of lime trees.

  ‘Good morning, Mr and Mrs Cheevers,’ an old woman said as they walked past her. She was a local landlady, renowned for her sharp business practices and occasional acts of kindness. Rose never knew quite how to take her.

  ‘The greetings of the hour, Mrs Hamilton,’ Pa said cheerily. ‘It is unusual to see you here on a Sunday.’

  ‘As you grow older, you find more to thank the Lord for, and start to worry you might not have done enough to deserve your place in Heaven.’

  Ma acknowledged Mrs Hamilton briefly as they went on to catch up with the Miskins who were on the way to church as well. Tabby nodded shyly and fell back to be at Arthur’s side. Rose felt a pang of – what was it? she wondered. Yearning and a touch of envy? She wished she was walking with her sweetheart, the man she would marry. She smiled to herself. The problem was that she hadn’t met him yet.

  ‘Good morning, Mr Miskin,’ Pa greeted the apothecary. ‘It is another beautiful day.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Mr Miskin responded. He was about forty-five years old and had a purple birthmark across one side of his face. His suit trousers were too short, exposing his socks and giving him a rather comical appearance. ‘How is business?’

  ‘I have to say that it is excellent. We have just celebrated the delivery of the first batches of hides all the way from Argentina, and they are top notch,’ Pa said. ‘It will be eighteen months or so until we reap the rewards, but I’m confident that we’ll produce leather that’s better than ever.’

  Mr Miskin nodded and smiled, as well he might, Rose thought, for his daughter’s financial security would depend on the success of the tannery once she was married. He changed the subject.

  ‘I’ve heard much about your recent efforts with the Sanitary Committee. I wish we’d had more progress with the state of the river – I fear more outbreaks of cholera like that of ’sixty-six when all those poor people fell sick and died.’

  ‘I’ve done my best to rouse the local businessmen from their apathy,’ Pa said, and Rose thought of how dead trout had been found floating downstream in a scum of coal tar and the effluent from the tan-pits. ‘I don’t think Alderman Masters is too worried – the sewage from the barracks makes his plants grow like weeds. He’s managed to cultivate all kinds at his exotic nursery.’

  ‘And then there’s the issue of the dye works – that needs addressing.’

  Rose knew the owner, Mr Beasley. His motto was ‘we dye to live while others live to dye’.

  ‘I hope we will soon come to an agreement on the way forward,’ Pa said. ‘In the meantime, we have a wedding to look forward to.’

  ‘We have received acceptances for most of the invitations that we sent out, according to the list you gave us,’ Mrs Miskin cut in. She was tall, like her daughter, but her skin had aged prematurely, her face being criss-crossed with fine lines. ‘I’m counting down the days, although I’ll be terribly sorry when our dear Tabitha moves out.’

  ‘I have to confess I will be happy when this is all over,’ Mr Miskin said with a smile. ‘It is the only topic of conversation in the shop. I can’t get on with anything.’

  ‘Well, we are almost there. In less than two weeks’ time, Tabby and Arthur will be man and wife.’ Pa glanced at Rose. ‘I wonder who will be next,’ he teased.

  ‘What did you mean when you said there was no compulsion to marry, Pa?’ Rose asked.

  ‘Oh, I was thinking aloud, that’s all. Sometimes I think that people make too much of the institution of marriage.’

  ‘It is the legal recognition of a couple’s commitment and obligation to each other,’ Mr Miskin said, looking somewhat outraged. ‘Not only that, it’s for the benefit of the children of that union. You would willingly make bastards of your future grandchildren?’

  ‘Arthur and Miss Miskin have made their decision according to their beliefs. All I’m saying is that it’s a shame that society expects everyone to toe the line.’

  Hiding her blushes at the rather shocking turn that the conversation had taken, Rose caught up with her mother as she approached the leaning gables and arched windows of St Mildred’s. Ma started to tell her and Donald how the stones that made up the walls were mixed with Roman tiles.

  ‘Ma, how many times have you told us this before?’ Donald sighed. ‘It’s Sunday – it’s supposed to be a day of rest.’

  ‘You should take every opportunity to improve your mind,’ Ma said. ‘W. G. Grace isn’t merely a cricketer – I’ve heard that he’s studying medicine. And while we’re speaking of cricket, is that a ball in your pocket?’

  Donald’s hand flew to cover it.

  ‘Donald?’

  ‘I must have picked it up by mistake,’ he said quickly, when he realised he’d been caught out. He cocked his head and grinned. ‘At least I left the bat behind. Don’t look at me like that, Ma – I won’t practise my bowling down the aisle.’

  ‘Greetings,’ said the vicar, shaking Pa’s hand at the church door. ‘You are one short. Where is Minnie today?’

  Ma bowed her head – Rose thought she was in awe of him, which was strange when Ma was normally quite confident in company.

  ‘She is at home, sick,’ Pa said lightly.

  ‘Ah, yes. I’m sorry. We will pray for her.’ Vicar Holdsworth, wearing his frock coat, waistcoat, white collar and bow tie, took both her hands
and held them for what Rose felt was an uncomfortably long time. His grey hair hung in rats’ tails over his elephantine ears and his nose was purple and pockmarked. His appearance had used to give Rose nightmares, until she’d been old enough to realise that he was a good man who cared for his flock, doing his best to encourage even the poorest to attend his church, even when they couldn’t afford a set of clothes to keep aside for Sundays.

  The Cheevers family took their seats in one of the grand oak pews, the ends of which were carved with eagles, while Arthur sat with the Miskins. Vicar Holdsworth read the banns then dwelt for a long while on a sermon about the parable of the loaves and the fishes, relating it to spiritual as well as bodily nourishment, during which Rose heard the rumble of a hungry belly. Donald, who was sitting beside her, gave her a nudge. She looked up at him and he nodded towards Ma with a twinkle in his eye. There was another rumble, louder this time. Donald grinned. Rose bit her lip to suppress a giggle.

  ‘Shh,’ Ma whispered. Rose sat up straight and forced herself to concentrate on something else. She gazed around the church, taking in the familiar sights of Sir Francis Head’s tomb covered with its black marble slab, and the white wall plaque in memory of William Jackson Esq. who had died from an injury inflicted by an unruly horse. She often wondered what had happened to the horse, and had plenty of time to conjure up all kinds of possibilities.

  When Vicar Holdsworth dismissed the congregation, the Cheeverses headed home for a roast dinner. Jane had cooked beef on the clockwork jack in front of the range. Ma and Pa went off to the Dane John for a stroll, Donald disappeared to find Joe, and Arthur walked out with Tabby, leaving Rose and Minnie to get on with the patchwork.

  ‘We should embroider their names and the date of their wedding around the edge,’ Minnie said. ‘You can do that – your stitches are neater than mine when it comes to lettering.’

  ‘You are better now?’ Rose asked, rummaging through the sewing box for the right thread.

  ‘I might have to have a few more headaches in the next couple of weeks if we are to get this finished.’ Minnie smiled. ‘It’s going to be the best present ever.’

  Rose gave her a hug as she walked back to her seat beside the window. Her sister could be much craftier than she appeared.

  Having made progress with the embroidery in pink, red and blue silks, Rose eventually admitted defeat. ‘We’ll stop now. It must be time for supper.’

  ‘I wish Pa would buy us a sewing machine. It would be so much quicker,’ Minnie said.

  ‘But would it mean as much? We have put our hearts and souls into it.’ Rose snipped a long piece of thread from the border she was creating. She folded the material and slipped it under the mattress. ‘Come on.’

  ‘I’m not hungry. I’d rather carry on with this.’

  ‘You have to eat or you will be ill. We can’t have that. Let’s go.’

  Reluctantly, Minnie put the rest of the patchwork away out of sight, and they went downstairs to join the rest of the family.

  Later, Rose plucked up the courage to ask Arthur about Pa and the bedsprings. He chuckled.

  ‘You shouldn’t be asking me about what goes on between a husband and wife. What do I know? I’m not yet married.’

  ‘It’s clear that you know more than I do,’ Rose said, a little hurt that he wouldn’t tell. ‘How am I to avoid being ruined by men who may or may not be gentlemen if I don’t know what that means?’

  ‘Oh Rose, you must speak to Ma about the birds and the bees.’

  She nodded, confused. Ma had told her about the dumbledores and wopsies, how to tell the difference and treat the stings of the former with soda and the latter with vinegar, but she wasn’t sure how this bore any relation to the question she’d raised. She supposed she would find out one day. In the meantime, there was much to look forward to – the train trip to Whitstable and Arthur’s wedding.

  The first Monday of August came round quickly. Too excited to sleep, Rose had woken Minnie and they’d been patchworking since dawn when Jane knocked on the bedroom door to tell them breakfast was ready.

  ‘Thank you,’ Rose said. ‘I wish you could come with us.’

  ‘It’s a kind thought, but I’m going to spend a few hours with my family. I’ll be back before you, though,’ Jane said, and Rose felt a little guilty that she hadn’t thought about what the maid did when she wasn’t at work. Jane lived in, sleeping on a mattress in the alcove in the kitchen. It wasn’t ideal, but Willow Place was creaking at the seams. When Arthur moved out, Rose was going to decline Ma’s offer of his old room and ask if Jane could have it instead. ‘You’ll be down shortly?’

  Rose nodded.

  ‘I’ll put the eggs on then,’ Jane said.

  The Cheeverses ate breakfast together, then dispersed to prepare for their day out. Rose found her bonnet where she’d left it crumpled on a chair in the parlour after church.

  ‘Is everyone ready?’ she called from the hall. ‘Hurry or we’ll miss the train.’

  Pa was tying his shoelaces as Donald appeared from the kitchen with his bat, ball and stumps which he had collected from the outhouse.

  ‘Do we really need those?’ Pa said, looking up as the longcase clock chimed the hour, the brass eagle glinting from the top.

  ‘We’ll need something to occupy us,’ Donald said.

  ‘It would please your ma no end if you forgot about cricket for just one day.’

  Donald opened his mouth to argue, but Pa silenced him with a frown and he put everything back. Minnie and Ma came downstairs. Although Ma denounced the use of the devil’s trickery, she had put a layer of cold cream, a dusting of rouge and a light covering of powder on her face. Minnie was wearing a yellow dress, one of Rose’s hand-me-downs.

  ‘It’s time to go,’ Rose said with a sigh of exasperation as Minnie rushed away again to find her shawl. ‘I don’t know why you need that when the sun is shining – it isn’t cold.’

  ‘It might be later,’ Minnie replied, returning with a woollen square around her shoulders.

  ‘Don’t panic, Rose,’ Arthur chuckled as he joined them, running down the steps, still fastening the buttons on his waistcoat. ‘You are such a worrier.’

  ‘What time did you get home last night?’ she retorted.

  ‘By midnight,’ he said, but she knew he was fibbing.

  They left Willow Place and made their way by shank’s pony along St Peter’s, past Tower House and the Guildhall, where a carriage went flying past, the horses’ shoes sending sparks up from the slippery tarmacadam. Arthur was carrying two deckchairs while Donald, much to his disgust, was burdened with two parasols and a bag. Pa brought the picnic hamper.

  ‘I can’t wait to ride on the train,’ Donald kept saying.

  ‘How will we know where to get off?’ Minnie asked.

  ‘There is a sign at Whitstable,’ Pa said as a gentleman Rose had never met doffed his hat and greeted her father. Pa nodded in return.

  They crossed the river at Westgate Towers and headed along St Dunstan’s Street, passing a milkmaid who was weighed down by a yoke and two churns, before they took the right-hand turn towards the station.

  ‘I remember my grandfather telling me how there was talk of pulling the towers down way back in – it must have been 1841, when Wombwell’s circus came to town,’ Pa said.

  ‘Why would they want to do that?’ Donald asked.

  ‘To make way for the elephants, but they weren’t anywhere near as tall as they had expected. Oh, they were a sight to behold.’

  ‘The best thing I ever saw was Monsieur Blondin walking the tightrope at the barracks with one of the Hussars on his back,’ Arthur said and they all looked at him in envy because he was the only member of the family to have watched this feat. ‘He could easily have fallen and both of them would have died.’

  ‘I liked the fly man.’ Pa had taken Rose and Arthur to the circus where they had seen him walk upside down on a glass ceiling. To this day, Rose still didn’t know how he’d done it.


  At the station, Pa bought first-class tickets from the ticket office.

  ‘Isn’t that a little extravagant?’ Ma was wearing a large straw hat with ribbons streaming from the back, all the fashion for a trip to the seaside. ‘It’s a lot of money.’

  ‘It’s fine. It’s a special treat,’ Pa said. ‘Seize the day. Cruel time is fleeing. Soon our family will be reduced from six to five with Arthur’s departure. We must make the most of occasions such as these when we are all together. Hold on to my arm, dear wife. I will protect you.’

  ‘We must stand well back to avoid being whisked off on to the rails by the rush of the incoming train,’ Ma said nervously.

  Pa smiled briefly, making Rose wonder if he was quite himself.

  The train arrived without incident and the guard opened the doors, allowing the travellers to board while a young man unloaded punnets of watercress on to the platform.

  ‘This is our carriage, I believe,’ Pa said, shepherding his flock to their seats.

  The guard slammed the doors and blew his whistle, and with a hiss of steam and a groan of effort, the train pulled out of the station. It rattled along through the outskirts of Canterbury and northwards to Tyler Hill where, with a shrill whistle, it entered a tunnel, plunging the covered carriage into darkness. Rose closed her eyes. She could smell smoke and hear Arthur and Donald laughing out loud.

  ‘I don’t like it,’ Ma said.

  ‘It is perfectly safe,’ Pa shouted. ‘The tunnel is only half a mile long.’

  Only? Rose thought.

  ‘It holds the weight of Tyler Hill above our heads,’ Ma exclaimed. ‘How can that be?’

  ‘It is a marvellous feat of engineering,’ Pa went on.

  ‘I can see the light at the end,’ Arthur said, and Rose opened her eyes again, as they shot out into the bright sunshine.

  ‘I thought we would suffocate to death,’ Ma said.

  ‘It is very narrer, I grant you that,’ Pa said, wiping a sheen of perspiration from his forehead. ‘And not all that tall, no more than twelve foot.’

  ‘I’d like to get out now,’ Ma said, shifting in her seat. ‘May we walk the rest of the way?’