by Evie Grace
‘Like what?’
‘She was so shocked and upset that she could hardly bear to look at her mother, let alone speak.’
‘Didn’t you warn her in advance?’
‘You and your ma were very much alike. When Agnes had made up her mind about something, it was almost impossible to change it.’
‘Are you saying that I’m pig-headed?’
‘I admire the strength of your opinions, but I think you should always be prepared to regulate them when necessary. Anyway, going back to my story … I didn’t want to say or do anything that would raise suspicion on anyone’s part. I think if I’d told her where we were going and why, she would have refused. I had to be devious. May the Lord forgive me my sins, but everything I did was for Agnes.’ Aunt Marjorie’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Oh, I miss her.’
‘We all do,’ Rose said, patting her arm.
‘I shouldn’t be like this. She was your mother. Oh, if I’d been more circumspect, if I’d followed Mr Berry-Clay’s orders …’
‘You mustn’t blame yourself. You did what you thought was right.’
‘The meeting went badly wrong. It triggered the train of events that ended with Mr Berry-Clay’s brother revealing that he had seen us on the wharf with Agnes’s mother, which set off her father’s collapse and premature death.’
‘I’m confused. It’s all too much to take in,’ Rose said slowly. Poor Ma. What a life she had led. She wished she had talked about it to share the burden. It was no wonder that her heart had given up.
‘The half a sixpence is your mother’s legacy.’
‘And a reminder of such deep sorrows. It seems wrong to keep it.’
‘Ah, that’s where you’re wrong. It is a symbol of a powerful love between two people who were forced apart by circumstances. And it is also a sign of a mother’s love. Mrs Carter gave up her child, Agnes, to give her a better life. It wouldn’t work out in the way she’d imagined, but she wasn’t to know that. Agnes did have a better life – with Oliver and Arthur, you and the twins. The half a sixpence will remind you of your history, and not to repeat the mistakes of the past.’
Rose held the half a sixpence and chain tightly in her hand as they continued walking along St Margaret’s, passing the Three Tuns and turning off Castle Street to head for the Dane John.
As well as answering a few questions, her aunt had raised more – like what had happened to force her grandparents apart? Her grandmother was married now, but to whom, if it wasn’t to her grandfather?
She opened her palm. The half a coin was set in a silver mount, but the roughened edge where it had been sawn or filed in two was clearly visible. How had the man who was her grandfather done it, and why?
‘I wonder what happened to the other half,’ she said.
‘I wonder,’ her aunt echoed.
‘Do you think it’s still out there? Do you think my grandfather has kept it?’
‘If he’s still living,’ Aunt Marjorie said. ‘He’ll be an old man by now. Your grandmother is alive and kicking, though, and residing on a farm in the village of Overshill, which is near Selling. I do know that.’
‘How come?’ Rose looked up.
‘I wrote to her to let her know our sad news.’
‘I see.’
‘I thought she should know that her daughter … that Agnes had departed this life. I was under the impression that she might consider attending the funeral, but she declined with a short note expressing her sorrow and a wish not to rake up the past. It’s sad, but she must have her reasons.’
‘I wonder what they are,’ Rose said, wishing she could have met her.
‘She is married – perhaps she has kept her history from her husband. Oh, I don’t know.’ Aunt Marjorie sighed. ‘I did what I could. Dear Rose, I think that for now we must look forward, not back.’
‘Are you absolutely sure that there’s no other way?’ Rose said, recalling their plight.
‘No, I’m afraid there isn’t,’ Aunt Marjorie cut in. ‘You’ll be suitably grateful and bow to the Kingsleys’ authority, knowing that this situation will not last for ever. You’ll be dependent on them until you come of age.’
‘That’s years away,’ Rose exclaimed. ‘You know what Aunt Temperance is like – you are being very harsh.’
‘Because this is the best chance you, Arthur and the twins have of staying together. The time will fly, I promise.’
Rose wished she could believe her. They continued their walk through the Dane John gardens, looking out from the top of the city wall, before returning to Willow Place. As they strolled up the drive past the ducks, Aunt Marjorie said, ‘Be brave. Remember your ma and how she overcame adversity. You are your mother’s daughter and you will do the same.’
Chapter Nine
Cod Liver Oil and Malt
Rose put Ma’s secrets behind her, preferring to remember her as she was: the warmth of her embrace; her scent of orange flower and rosewater; her laughter when she was jesting with Pa. She kept the half a sixpence around her neck because she had bequeathed it to her personally, mother to daughter.
Aunt Marjorie’s luggage was in the hall ready for her departure back to Ramsgate the following morning. Rose and the twins were waiting to wish her farewell as she put on her hat and gloves.
‘Do you have to go?’ Minnie asked. ‘I’ll miss you.’
‘Unfortunately, my services are required elsewhere. There is no one to look after the children while their parents travel to Italy for a family occasion. Don’t worry, I’ll come back and check on you as soon as I can.’ She embraced each of them before turning to Donald. ‘Bring my bags, dear. Goodbye, Minnie. And give my love to Arthur. I assume he is already at work. He is a good boy. Tell him that I expect to receive my invitation with the new date for the wedding very soon.’
‘How much did you bring with you?’ Donald muttered, struggling with her bags.
‘Everything but the scullery sink.’ Aunt Marjorie smiled. ‘I fear it’s too late for me to learn how to travel light.’
Rose stood at the door with her arms wrapped around Minnie’s shoulders as they watched their aunt and Donald lagging behind with the bags until they disappeared round the corner at the bottom of the drive. Kissing her sister’s hair, Rose released her.
‘That’s that then,’ Minnie sighed. ‘What happens now?’
‘Donald will go to the tannery as usual when he gets back from the station,’ Rose said, wondering how everything could seem so normal and ordinary when everything had changed.
‘What about us?’
‘That’s a very good question. I suppose we should go back to school later.’ It was hard to imagine returning to the classroom, knowing it would remind them of Ma’s absence. A sudden memory of chalk dust caught in the slant of the sun’s rays made her eyelids prick. ‘We’ll reopen on Monday.’
Minnie bounced on her toes with joy. It was the first time Rose had seen her happy since the day they lost Pa.
‘I’m looking forward to seeing my friends again. I’ve missed them.’
Aunt Marjorie was right, Rose thought as she followed her sister into the kitchen. It was better to keep busy than mope about the house, dwelling on what they had lost. She hoped and prayed that this was the beginning of the road to finding peace and some kind of acceptance of what had happened.
Not long after Donald had returned to Willow Place from the station on his way to the tannery, there was a hammering at the door. Mrs Dunn was already in the kitchen instructing Jane on the order of the day, so Rose went to answer it.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said, surprised to find the Kingsleys on the doorstep.
‘May we step inside?’ Mr Kingsley removed his top hat.
‘There’s no need to ask permission.’ Aunt Temperance pushed past him, an umbrella in one hand and the quivering leaves of a potted aspidistra in the other. She shook the raindrops from her umbrella and dropped it into the hallstand as if she owned the place, which she did, to be fair, Rose
had to admit. The fact that it was her right didn’t make it feel any better. A little delicacy in front of the twins, who had made their appearance just after the Kingsleys’ arrival, would have been kind.
Aunt Temperance removed Ma’s parlour fern from the jardinière and put the aspidistra on top instead. ‘Take it away. We don’t need this any more.’ She thrust the potted fern into Rose’s hands, a gesture that filled Rose with a sense of impending doom. She had known this was coming, but why did it have to be so soon?
Her aunt turned to Mr Kingsley.
‘Send the men in. I will tell them exactly which furniture is to be removed so there are no misunderstandings. Donald, you can assist Mr Kingsley in moving our belongings from the house in Burgate Street. You’ll need the barrow from the yard. The smaller items are to be carried covered from prying eyes. I don’t want the neighbours knowing what we have and haven’t got. And if anything gets scratched or broken, I’ll have the culprit tied to the yardarm.’
‘My dear, you are too harsh,’ Mr Kingsley said.
‘We start as we mean to go on, treating them with firmness and authority. Oh, we shall keep that.’ Aunt Temperance pointed at the chiffonier. ‘I’ve always coveted it. Rose, find a box and empty it. Go on. Mr Kingsley and I wish to have somewhere to store our bits and pieces. Your parents have no need of it now. Don’t throw anything away before I’ve had a look through to see what we might keep.’
Rose’s eyes stung with tears as she went out to the kitchen to put the fern down and ask Mrs Dunn if she knew where she could find a box.
‘Oh ducky, what’s wrong?’ the housekeeper said gently as she carried a bowl of plums across to the table. ‘It’s the Kingsleys, isn’t it? I heard their voices.’
‘I need a box so I can clear space for their things.’
‘How dare they! What are they thinking?’ Mrs Dunn dropped the bowl on to the floor where it shattered, scattering the plums.
‘I’m afraid they can do as they wish. This is their home now,’ Rose said sadly.
‘That’s no reason to treat you badly.’ Mrs Dunn rushed into the hall to find Aunt Temperance, who was directing the men from the tannery and a local removal company who were moving the furniture. ‘Mrs Kingsley, it is a cruel thing that you do, making those girls clear away their dearly departed parents’ belongings and precious keepsakes.’
‘What business is it of yours?’ Aunt Temperance arched one eyebrow. ‘Really, Mrs Dunn. You should mind your manners and be grateful that we decided not to bring our own housekeeper with us.’ She flashed a glance at Jane who had appeared at the bottom of the stairs with a mop and bucket. ‘Or the maids. They were both getting ideas above their station so I sent them on their way. This is a fresh start for Mr Kingsley and me, and we don’t need lots of servants when we have the girls here to help out with the chores.’
‘I’m sorry if I spoke out of turn, Mrs Kingsley.’
‘You must address me as mistress of Willow Place from now on.’
Mrs Dunn bowed her head and backed down. Rose guessed that she couldn’t risk losing her place for the sake of her principles.
‘What about school, Aunt?’ Rose asked.
‘We’ll talk about that another time. Suffice to say, we need you here this morning and for the rest of the week, but perhaps you will have time to clean and air the premises later today.’
Somewhat reassured by her aunt’s words, Rose helped her sister clear out some of their parents’ personal effects while the men and Donald moved much of the old furniture out of the house and replaced it with chairs, beds and chests from the Kingsleys’ former home.
‘It is hard to clear out their clothes,’ Minnie sniffed as they stared into Ma’s wardrobe. ‘I don’t want to do it.’
Her chest aching with renewed heartbreak, Rose put her arm around her sister’s shoulders and gave her a hug.
‘Neither do I, but it has to be done. Waste not, want not. We should keep as much as possible – the dresses can always be altered.’ Rose breathed in the faint scent of Ma’s perfume as she reached out and swept her hand along the row of garments, hesitating on the practical navy serge that Ma had always worn when she was teaching, and the pale green cotton dress decorated with pink flowers that reminded her of when they had gone to the seaside on the day when Pa had fallen ill, and the grey silk that she had worn for special occasions like her birthday. ‘We’ll share the shawls and shoes.’
When it came to Pa’s clothes, Rose put a jacket aside each for Arthur and Donald, and stowed his heavy winter overcoat under Donald’s bed.
When Aunt Temperance decreed that they had done enough in the house for one day, Rose took Ma’s key from the hook on the back of the front door, and she and Minnie went to school to open the windows for a while. Having knocked down a few cobwebs from the corners of the classroom, they cleaned the privy and swept the floors. Minnie counted the slates and workbooks, and wiped the chalk from the blackboard: Ma’s last words to her pupils.
‘That’s better,’ Rose said, dashing back tears as she surveyed their handiwork and wondered how many of their pupils would return. She couldn’t help feeling that some would have moved to rival establishments and others like Baxter might have found alternative, more lucrative occupations on the streets of Canterbury.
By the end of the day, when they sat down for dinner, Willow Place had changed for ever. Mr Kingsley was head of the table, while Aunt Temperance sat at his right hand. Donald, Arthur, Rose and Minnie took their places, and Jane served boiled ham, parsley sauce, potatoes and carrots.
‘Remember to chew each mouthful twenty times,’ their aunt said as Donald began to wolf down his dinner. ‘It is better for the digestion.’
‘My brother’s always gobbled his food – it’s never done him any harm,’ Arthur said.
‘We’ll have none of that lip,’ Aunt Temperance said.
‘Manners maketh man,’ Mr Kingsley observed, chewing noisily on a piece of fat. ‘We will have silence at mealtimes as was the rule at home when I was a boy.’
‘It prevents the breaching of other matters of social protocol, such as not talking with one’s mouth full,’ Aunt Temperance said quickly, aiming this remark at her husband.
Everyone fell silent. Rose pushed her food around her plate, having completely lost her appetite.
‘This is just how it should be,’ Aunt Temperance said eventually. ‘We will live as one happy family.’
Minnie began to cry. Rose reached out for her hand. Mr Kingsley looked at his wife, then cleared his throat and said, ‘I’m truly sorry for your loss, my dears, but this is a cross we all have to bear. We must pray that we will live together in harmony.’
‘Minnie must make more of an effort to overcome her grief,’ Aunt Temperance added. ‘Most people lose their parents at one time or another – it’s nothing unusual. Life goes on. That’s right, isn’t it, Mr Kingsley?’
He poured himself a third or fourth glass of wine – Rose had lost count – and Aunt Temperance moved the bottle away from him.
‘That sounded rather unkind,’ Rose said. ‘It’s hard for us, Minnie especially.’
‘It is much worse for my husband. Imagine becoming a father at his advanced age.’
‘He is not our father.’ The blood seemed to drain out through Rose’s feet.
‘He is taking on all the responsibilities of a father; therefore it is only right that you should honour his wish to be known as Pa Kingsley.’
‘I will never call him Pa,’ Rose said.
‘My dear wife, you promised to be gentle with the children, not rush in like a bull in a china shop. Don’t worry, Rose. All I hope for is that in the fullness of time, you, Arthur, Donald and Minnie will begin to consider us as your loving parents. We will do things together, share common interests and create memories.’ He looked towards the picture of the family on the wall. ‘I’ll book a sitting with the photographer, and on Sunday we will worship as a family. We will attend St Mildred’s, I think.’
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‘Oh no, that will not do, Mr Kingsley,’ Aunt Temperance said.
‘It will go some way to prove to our neighbours that we are committed to bringing them up with kindness and according to Christian principles.’
‘To this day, I don’t know why my brother continued to attend St Mildred’s rather than join the great and good of the city at the cathedral.’
‘You know why. Oliver preferred to follow in your grandfather’s footsteps, associating himself with the common folk of this parish.’
‘Of which there are far too many,’ Aunt Temperance sighed. ‘How I wish we could pick this house up and put it in a more salubrious neighbourhood.’
‘Don’t judge these people too hastily or you will be considered a snob.’ Mr Kingsley belched loudly. ‘Excuse me.’
‘What are we going to do, Rose?’ Minnie sighed when they retired to bed.
‘We’ll do as Ma and Pa would have wished – we’ll make the best of it,’ she said. ‘I believe Mr Kingsley wants the best for us, but I’m not sure about our aunt.’
On the Sunday, they went to church with their aunt and uncle where they endured a long sermon and the stares of their fellow worshippers. As they walked back home, Aunt Temperance said that they would go to the cathedral the following week for the comfort of the pews and a better class of worshipper. After lunch, Arthur went to walk out with Tabby for the afternoon, leaving Rose and the twins at Willow Place, while their aunt implemented the next part of her regime. Holding a brown bottle and spoon, she lined the three of them up in the hallway.
‘Don’t look so worried, my dears. This won’t kill you.’
‘What is it?’ Donald asked.
‘It’s your weekly dose of cod liver oil and malt.’
Rose was aghast. Hadn’t they suffered enough?