A Place to Call Home

by Evie Grace

  ‘Or we can speak to Mr Miskin.’ Arthur smiled. ‘He’ll be able to recommend a cure.’

  ‘Please excuse me,’ Pa said, standing up.

  ‘I shall join you,’ Ma said. ‘Jane, please bring up some mint tea and cold water for his fever.’

  ‘I don’t need any fuss. Goodnight, all. God forbid if I’m not well for this wedding.’ Pa forced a smile.

  Rose didn’t think there would be any testing of the bedsprings that night. She couldn’t sleep. Minnie was snoring lightly and the window was open to allow the slightest breath of air into the stuffy room at the top of the house. The sound of the young men’s voices drifted into her consciousness as she lay beneath a single sheet.

  Arthur and Bert were sitting outside on the veranda.

  ‘You should come and join me in London. You can bring Tabby with you.’

  ‘Canterbury is my home. I have everything I’ve ever wanted or needed here,’ Arthur said.

  ‘There is more going on in the Smoke than here. The city is abuzz.’

  ‘I can’t just up and go, not after what Mr and Mrs Cheevers have done for me. Pa has taught me how to manage the tannery – I’m his right-hand man.’

  ‘But it doesn’t make you a fortune.’

  ‘It’s a good business. Leather is always in demand.’

  ‘There’s more money in building. There are houses springing up all over the place. You have to see it to believe it. Come and join me, Arthur.’

  ‘I would feel like a traitor. No, I’m happy here. Besides, Tabby wouldn’t want to leave her family behind. She was born and bred in Canterbury, like us.’

  ‘What prospects do you have, though?’

  ‘One day, a long way in the future, the tannery will pass to me and Donald.’

  ‘Are you sure about that? Donald is the Cheeverses’ son by blood.’

  ‘Pa has never made any secret of his plans. It’s a family business. My uncle – Mr Kingsley – is in charge of running the financial side. Pa is the gaffer, and I’m his deputy. Donald helps out in the yard when he isn’t at school, or playing cricket.’ Rose could hear the smile in Arthur’s voice. ‘What would I do with that kind of wealth anyway? There are only so many shillin’s a man can spend in his lifetime.’

  ‘Are you of sound mind?’ Bert laughed. ‘You’re talking like a lunatic – you can never have enough money. You won’t remember how Agnes – Miss Berry-Clay as she was back then – wore the most beautiful clothes and pure-white kid gloves. I remember her as a girl looking down ’er nose at me, and it made me yearn for a fortune so that nobody would ever look at me as if I was worth nothin’ again.’

  ‘Life isn’t about how much you have in the way of assets. I have riches enough.’

  ‘Where is your ambition?’

  ‘I have none, and I think I will be all the happier for that.’

  ‘Then you are a fool. Oh, don’t look at me in that way,’ Bert said. ‘I’ve grown cynical. I’ve been taken advantage of more than once. I’ve been robbed and beaten and I’ve worked in return for empty promises. I don’t trust no one.’

  ‘Then I’m very sorry for you,’ Arthur said.

  ‘We’ve been brought up different, and that’s all there is to it. I admire your loyalty to the Cheeverses, but you’re still a Fortune underneath. Promise me you’ll consider my offer. Speak with Miss Miskin, and give me your answer after the wedding.’

  A few minutes of silence ensued before Bert began to sing. ‘Out of the bed I did creep. I searched her pockets … I took the lot and locked me lady in.’

  Arthur joined in. ‘Now all young men wherever you be, if you meet a pretty girl, you use her free.’

  Rose was surprised to hear the humour in their voices as they sung a bawdy song, ‘Up to the Rigs of London Town’, about a pretty girl at a house of ill-repute, before they moved on to the story of the blue-eyed lover.

  ‘See how them London lights are gleaming through the frost and falling snow,’ they sang, the sound of their low voices and haunting pitch of the music tugging at her heartstrings. She was sorry for the young woman whose lover had run away leaving her with their baby and nowhere to stay, but she felt strangely elated too. There was life beyond the tannery, school and the streets of Canterbury. She yearned to experience a little of it for herself, but she was destined to become a teacher and take on the school after Ma, or marry and settle down to run a household and bring up a family like Tabby would after she had wed Arthur later in the week.

  For the first time, she wondered if that would be enough. Like Bert, she craved more – not when it came to money because she wanted for nothing in the way of material goods. The trouble was, she didn’t yet know what she was looking for.

  ‘Is Pa up and about?’ Rose asked Ma the next morning. ‘And where is Arthur?’

  ‘He and your father have gone to the yard as usual. Bert returned to the Rose Hotel in the early hours of the morning and Donald should be dressed by now. Didn’t you hear me yelling at him to get out of bed?’ Ma smiled, but she didn’t seem her usual self.

  ‘Is Pa better then? Or are you worrying about the wedding? It’s only two days away.’

  ‘What is it with all these questions?’ Ma’s voice softened. ‘Oh, Rose, you are such a sensitive soul. Yes, you’re right. I’m a little sad that Arthur is leaving home, even though I know he will be very happy married to Tabby.’

  ‘But we will still see him,’ Rose said, recalling the conversation she had overheard the previous night – Arthur would stay on at the tannery, not go to London with Bert.

  ‘It won’t be the same, though. Soon he will have his own children to look after.’

  Rose gave her mother a hug.

  ‘I don’t think your father should have gone to work today. He had a bad night, tossing and turning, and he wouldn’t eat this morning. I begged him to stay indoors, but he wouldn’t have it. He blames it on the whelks he ate yesterday, but he didn’t have any. I wish I’d put my foot down, but you can’t tell him what to do.’ She changed the subject. ‘Where are the twins?’

  ‘I’m here,’ Minnie said, running down the stairs with her shoes in her hand. At the same time, there was a loud thud at the front door.

  ‘Donald!’ Ma yelled. ‘How many times?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Ma,’ Donald said as he opened the door. ‘I was practising my bowling.’

  ‘Put the ball away. It’s time for school.’ Ma fingered the back of his collar, then let him go. ‘Oh, what are we going to do with you?’

  Rose sighed as they left the house. In her opinion, Ma was always too quick to forgive him.

  Baxter was waiting, sitting on the wall outside the school, swinging his legs and kicking at the brickwork with his heels. When he saw Rose watching him, he jumped down and stood with his hands in his pockets, his head to one side.

  ‘Good morning, Miss Cheevers,’ he said slowly.

  ‘Good morning, Baxter.’ She smiled – she would knock him into shape by the end of his time at school if it killed her.

  The morning passed pleasantly enough. Rose took the little ones for reading, writing and arithmetic. Ma taught the older ones some geography and science, but after break-time, there was a loud and insistent knocking at the schoolroom door.

  ‘Mrs Cheevers. Mrs Cheevers!’ The door flew open to reveal one of the men from the tan yard.

  ‘What is the meaning of this interruption, Mr Hales?’ Ma began.

  ‘You must come quickly,’ he said, his face etched with panic.

  ‘What is it? What has happened?’ Ma touched her throat.

  ‘The gaffer has fallen into a faint – Arthur, Mr Jones and Mr Kingsley have taken him to the house.’

  Ma looked wildly towards Rose.

  ‘You will stay here with the children,’ she said, her voice quavering, but Rose had no intention of staying.

  ‘Minnie and Donald, you go with Ma while I dismiss the pupils and lock up.’

  ‘Will we come back this afternoon?’ Baxte
r asked when they had left, and Rose was helping the younger children gather their belongings.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said.

  ‘Oh?’ He looked crestfallen.

  ‘I thought you’d be pleased to have some time off.’

  He shook his head.

  ‘Can’t I stay and help with anything, miss?’ he asked when he had collected up the older pupils’ books and put them on Ma’s desk for marking.

  ‘I’m sorry, but I have to go now.’ Rose hustled him out of the door and turned the key in the lock.

  He looked up, shading his eyes. ‘I hope Mr Cheevers is better soon.’

  ‘Oh, Baxter, thank you,’ she said, touched by his concern. ‘I’m sure he’ll be fine in a day or two.’

  She hurried back to Willow Place, following the sound of shouting. Mrs Dunn and Jane were in the hall watching Arthur, Donald and two of the workmen try to carry her father, who was lying roped to a door, but Pa was too heavy and the staircase too narrow.

  ‘This way,’ Arthur gasped, the veins in his neck standing proud from the skin. ‘He can go in the dining room instead.’

  The men tipped the makeshift stretcher to one side to get it through the doorway and rest it on the table without disturbing Pa. Rose followed Ma and the twins. Normally so capable, Ma didn’t seem to know what to do. The sight of her husband lying quite still on his back on the door, his arms flopping over the edge and his face a strange shade of grey, had robbed her of speech.

  No one knew what to do so Rose took over. She had no choice.

  ‘Donald, leave that, and fetch Doctor Norris. Run as fast as those legs will carry you. Minnie, get the brandy from the tantalus.’

  ‘Where is the key?’ Minnie asked.

  ‘It’s on the mantel under the clock. I will fetch sheets and a blanket. Jane, boil up some water. Mrs Dunn, make tea.’ Rose returned shortly to give two sheets and a blanket to Arthur.

  ‘Cover him,’ she said.

  ‘Thanks, Rose,’ he said gruffly. ‘It’s only a faint and nothing to worry about.’

  ‘I am worried,’ she whispered before she excused herself, saying she would look out for the doctor who was just trotting up the drive on his grey cob. He dismounted and tied his horse to the post on the lawn.

  ‘Good morning, Miss Cheevers. I hear that you have an emergency on your hands.’ The doctor was a middle-aged man with a fine moustache and horn-rimmed spectacles.

  ‘It’s my father.’ Rose showed Doctor Norris into the house and he rested his brown leather bag on top of Pa’s correspondence on the chiffonier in the hall, as she held out her hands to take his coat and billycock hat. She put them on the stand and followed him as he picked up his bag and went into the dining room. He sent everyone except for Rose and Ma away before listening to Pa’s chest with his stethoscope.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Ma said as Pa’s breathing rattled in his throat. His skin was covered with purple bruises and his body was shaking with cold. ‘He was a little under the weather yesterday, that’s all. How can this happen so quickly?’

  ‘Mr Cheevers has a fever,’ Doctor Norris observed.

  ‘He’s going to be all right,’ Ma said, her voice taut with anxiety and doubt. ‘He will be well again?’

  ‘I cannot say. If I could put your mind at rest, I would, but he is gravely ill.’

  Ma’s face turned pale and her knees sagged. Rose grabbed at her arm and sat her down on a chair before standing at her side with one hand on her shoulder as Ma rocked back and forth.

  ‘What is it, Doctor Norris?’ Rose asked tentatively.

  ‘I believe it to be a rare form of hide-carrier’s disease.’

  Rose frowned. She’d heard of it before. One of the older men working at the tannery had had a blister on his arm, which had turned to a black scab as though he had been touched by an evil spirit, until gradually it had healed and gone away.

  ‘Mr Cheevers has been in contact with uncured hides at the tannery?’

  Rose nodded.

  ‘It is the same as wool-sorter’s disease, which seems to be more commonly associated with imported wool rather than that produced in this country.’

  ‘He has brought hides in from Argentina recently,’ Rose said, remembering how pleased he and Arthur had been with the new supply of raw material.

  ‘Well, we will never know exactly,’ the doctor said. ‘What we need to do now is implement treatment, but I have to warn you – the majority of the afflicted do not survive.’

  Rose’s heart stopped. A pain arced through her chest. This couldn’t be happening.

  Ma reached up, fumbling for Rose’s hand, and her heart began to beat again. She had to be strong for her mother.

  ‘We should not speak of death in his presence,’ Ma sobbed.

  ‘He cannot hear us. He is completely insensible and I’m afraid likely to remain so,’ Doctor Norris said.

  ‘There must be something you can do,’ Rose begged.

  ‘There is very little …’

  ‘Is there any benefit in sending him to hospital?’

  ‘I wouldn’t recommend it. There are certain conditions that lend themselves to surgical intervention, but there is nothing to be done with the knife in this case. To be honest, he would be better off at home. The hospital can be a miserable place – they have recently employed a bug catcher to keep the beds clear of insects. And it’s always short of money – the last fundraising efforts brought in donations of jam and old newspapers, and rags for bandages, not coins and banknotes to pay for nurses and instruments.’

  Rose recoiled at the thought of the squalor and lack of care.

  ‘We will nurse him here then, won’t we, Ma?’

  Her mother burst into fresh tears before stuffing the corner of her handkerchief into her mouth to stifle her sobs.

  ‘It isn’t often that I recommend bloodletting these days, but in this case, there is nothing to lose.’ The doctor looked at Rose. ‘You will stay, or ask one of the maids to assist? It would be better for your mother to leave the room.’

  ‘I will ask Jane,’ Ma said.

  ‘No, I’ll do it,’ Rose said. How would Pa feel when he woke if they weren’t at his side? She still had hope. She glanced towards her mother who was struggling to her feet. ‘I’ll call you back as soon as it’s done.’

  ‘Thank you, dear.’ Ma turned and planted a kiss on Pa’s cheek. ‘I’m praying for you, my love.’

  She left the room and Rose was alone with the doctor, Pa and her reservations about the impending treatment, born of her father’s lack of confidence in medicine in general.

  ‘Doctor Norris,’ she said apprehensively, ‘are you absolutely sure this is the right course of action?’

  He raised one eyebrow. ‘It is the only course. It isn’t often that a young lady questions the opinion of a physician of many years’ standing. You are right to be cautious, though. Your father is suffering from a febrile pneumonia – bloodletting will strangle the fever and reduce the burning heat of the skin. It will also render the pulse weaker, taking the pressure from the head and heart.’ He took a bowl from his bag and an ivory case from his pocket from which he removed a small pointed lancet.

  ‘I have known young ladies who faint upon the sight of blood.’

  ‘I’m not one of them. I’m used to it.’ She thought of the blood that stained the cart wheels and the carters’ clothes when they brought the hides to the tannery. ‘Tell me what to do.’

  The doctor drew Pa’s arm straight and twisted it slightly so the crook of his elbow was uppermost, revealing the tracery of blue veins against his skin.

  ‘I need you to hold the bowl beneath the arm when I cut the vessel to release the blood,’ he said. ‘You can do that?’

  She nodded. She would do anything for her dear father. All she wanted was for him to be back to his old self. Her hands trembling, she held the bowl.

  ‘Look away if you wish,’ Doctor Norris said, but she couldn’t. She was transfixed by the way the do
ctor tapped at the vein, then cut into it with his blade until the blood trickled across Pa’s blotchy skin and dripped into the bowl. Pa seemed oblivious.

  ‘That is enough,’ the doctor said eventually, checking the pulse at Pa’s wrist. ‘I will return tomorrow morning first thing to repeat it. In the meantime, you will bathe his face and hands with cool water, and keep the windows open for fresh air, although it is in short supply around here. If he wakes, then offer him some clear broth, nothing more inflammatory than that.’

  Pa uttered a low moan. Rose almost jumped out of her skin.

  ‘Is he in pain?’ she asked.

  The doctor shook his head.

  ‘I will leave you now. Please, give my regards to your mother and let her know that I can be called upon at any time, day or night. I’ll see myself out.’ He took his leave and made his way out of the room with his bag.

  Rose fetched her mother from the kitchen where Mrs Dunn had been feeding her tea and biscuits.

  ‘How is he?’ Ma said as she sat down beside Pa and took his hand. She touched his elbow. ‘Is this …?’

  ‘It’s where the doctor bled him,’ Rose said softly. ‘He didn’t feel a thing.’

  ‘Oh, I wish that he had,’ Ma sobbed. ‘Oliver, please wake up. You cannot leave us yet. We have so much to do, and so many more happy years ahead of us. Arthur will soon be married. We will have grandchildren.’

  ‘Ma, you don’t have to stay with him,’ Rose said. ‘Let me take some of the burden from you.’

  ‘I will not leave his side. Oh Rose, it is kind of you, but you must remember that I have done this before. When I was a little older than you are now, I nursed my father – the man who adopted me.’ Tears rolled down her cheeks. ‘His heart gave up on him. He lasted but one night. Oh Oliver, don’t you dare leave me.’

  Rose could hardly bear to see her mother’s distress. She remained with her parents, but at a discreet distance, placing a chair under the window. It was painful to hear Ma talking to her father and to watch her bathe his face and arms, planting kisses on his forehead. There was hope, though, she thought. If the power of love alone could save him, he would be alive and kicking in the morning.