by Val Wood
‘You’re never going out in this?’ Giles Dawson asked. He had only just come down for breakfast, leaving it until the very last minute before the kitchen closed.
‘I am,’ she assured him. ‘I thought of something last night and I must strike whilst the iron’s hot.’ She smiled. ‘Otherwise I might change my mind.’
He looked at her and grinned. ‘Perhaps you’d iron a couple of shirts for me whilst you’re about it!’ he said.
She raised her eyebrows. ‘I’m out of practice,’ she parried back. ‘Maybe the landlady will oblige!’
From Church Street to the Maritime wasn’t far, but nevertheless in spite of the umbrella she was soaked by the time she got there. The hotel was only just opening and she asked if Mr Gosling was available. Whilst the porter went to fetch him, Delia tidied up her hair, tucking it beneath her hat and checking herself in one of the mirrors in the lounge where she had been asked to wait.
‘Miss Delamour! Good morning.’
Delia was pleased that he remembered her, and when he asked how he could help her she told him that she had a proposition.
‘Please, won’t you take a seat. Would you like a pot of coffee?’
He was most affable, she thought as she refused his offer, and her tension began to ease. He can say yes or no, she thought. That’s all.
‘You may know that the theatre where I am performing will be closing at the end of the week to prepare for the pantomime season,’ she told him. ‘And I’m in rather a quandary as to what to do next. I have the promise of another contract for next year and I would quite like to stay in this district until then, rather than go back to London. I am sure you will be having extra guests over the Christmas holiday, and I wondered how you would feel about having a singer to entertain them? Say in the afternoons and evenings?’
She saw by his expression that he was considering the proposal with interest and not dismissing it out of hand, and she added, ‘I can sing without music, although you have a piano on which I could play a few notes as an introduction, although I’m not a pianist.’
‘It sounds like an excellent idea, Miss Delamour,’ he said, ‘I will have to ask the owners of the hotel as I can’t make the decision. There would be your fee, of course, but—’
Delia saw another opportunity. ‘Are you fully booked?’
‘Almost,’ he said. ‘We have clients who come for Christmas lunch or evening meals, but some do stay for a few days.’
‘Well, I wonder how the owners would feel about paying a smaller fee and including my bed and board in lieu of my entertainment?’ She smiled. ‘So I would sing for my supper, and lunch and tea as well?’
‘What a marvellous idea,’ he said enthusiastically. ‘I’ll ask them. Mrs Lucan and her family are always open to ideas and suggestions to enhance the attractions of the hotel. Where are you staying? I’ll slip round with a note as soon as they decide.’ He smiled. ‘Are you sure you won’t have some coffee?’
‘Perhaps I will after all,’ she agreed. ‘Why not, indeed?’
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
As Christmas drew near and the children at school practised their carols, Robin began to feel rather sad. Although he was loving being at school and being given challenges in the lessons, he’d never been away from his mother at Christmas before, he thought as he sat in the schoolroom with Louisa to eat their midday bread and beef. Louisa called it dinner, but he couldn’t work out why, when they had another hot dinner when they returned to Granny Robinson’s house after school.
It had been decided that Louisa, Emma and Rosie and their parents would be moving to the other house after Christmas. Jack was cleaning and painting it with the help of Aaron, and Susan had been sewing curtains from material that Granny Robinson had found in the bottom of a cupboard. Granny Robinson said it was good hard-wearing material and would be suitable for keeping out any draughts; Susan hadn’t liked the colour but when it was suggested that she could dye it she said it would do for the time being.
Robin had thought that perhaps Susan was rather lazy, and that if Louisa’s granny had offered to do it for her she might have agreed, only Granny Robinson didn’t offer.
He knew that he would miss Louisa when they went. Molly was staying with Granny Robinson and Aaron and not moving with the others, and although he thought she was a nice little girl he liked Louisa better than anybody, even more than Ben, who was Louisa’s cousin and sat next to her in class.
Molly was starting school for a trial period after Christmas. The headmaster had told Mrs Robinson that he would make an announcement in assembly before they broke up for the holiday, to tell the children that no one must tease Molly or call her names. Robin wondered why anyone would do such a thing, but sometimes Molly could be difficult if she didn’t get her own way. She was also telling everyone that she was going to sit next to Robin and he was a little worried about that too. She was such a chatterbox that he thought he might not be able to concentrate on his schoolwork.
When the girls’ Auntie Jenny had come to visit, he’d seen her give a cardboard box of wrapped parcels to her mother and he’d guessed that they were Christmas presents for her nieces. Then she’d glanced at him and although he pretended not to notice he saw that she was whispering that she hadn’t brought anything for him, but then she shuffled about in another bag and handed her mother something else. He hadn’t expected a present, because after all she hadn’t known he was there, but he knew he would feel outside the circle when parcels were being handed out if he didn’t get one too.
Then he wondered if he should leave and try to find his mother, for he thought that she might be lonely without him, but he had no idea of where she might be. ‘Louisa,’ he said. ‘Where do you think my mother might have gone?’
Louisa was about to take a bite of bread, but she stopped. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I don’t know anything about her. Does she work? Some ladies do, especially if they haven’t a husband to give them any money.’
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘she does. Or at least it’s a kind of work, although it isn’t hard work, not like scrubbing floors or working in a shop.’ He wondered if she’d got a booking in one of the Hull theatres, but then thought that he’d better not mention it to Louisa in case she accidentally told someone who then might tell a policeman and he didn’t want his mother to get into trouble for having left him behind.
I’d be quite happy to stay here, he thought, as long as I could see my mother sometimes and know that she wasn’t unhappy.
‘We could go and search for her in the school holidays if you like,’ Louisa said. ‘But where would we start looking? I don’t think she’ll be in Paull. She might be in Hedon, but I think Gran would have found out. She knows everybody in Hedon, so somebody would have told her.’
‘I don’t know what my mother would do in Hedon. I don’t think it’s her kind of place.’
‘What is her kind of place?’ she asked, and then took a large bite of bread and beef so she couldn’t speak again for a few minutes.
‘Somewhere like London or Brighton,’ he said gloomily. ‘But that’s no good, because they’re both a long way away and I haven’t any money for the train.’
‘If it’s such a long way, why did she come?’ Louisa asked eventually, chewing on a piece of meat. ‘Does she know somebody who lives round here?’
He nodded. ‘Erm, yes, I think she did, once.’
It wasn’t quite a lie, he thought as he continued to eat, although the old woman that they had called upon couldn’t have been her mother, because he had heard her say quite distinctly that she hadn’t got a daughter; so either Delia had gone to the wrong house or else her parents had moved to live somewhere else. And maybe, he thought in sudden clarification, she’s gone to look for them.
He felt slightly happier now that he might have solved the puzzle, because it meant that she would eventually return. Except, he thought guiltily, I like it here and don’t really want to go back to living in lodgings, not even in London. I li
ke the countryside; I like the smells and the animals, and seeing the ships on the estuary, and yesterday morning I saw hundreds of ducks and geese flying towards their feeding ground; at least that’s where Louisa said they were going, and she also said that some birds live abroad in the summer and come back here in the winter.
Louisa knows a lot about the countryside and flowers and plants and animals and things. She said that when she grows up she’d like to grow plants and flowers to help people if they had a headache or a pain anywhere and it would save them from having to go to a doctor, especially if they were very poor and couldn’t afford to pay to visit one. But she said that first she would have to study botany and learn more about it and she didn’t know if her mother or father would let her do that. They might send her to work in service which means cleaning someone else’s house and waiting on table and things like that.
I don’t often get a headache, he considered. I’m very healthy. Mother always said that I was, so that makes me healthy as well as useful; Mr Arthur Crawshaw told me that both of those were most worthwhile attributes, which he said meant qualities. So really I don’t have much to worry about, he pondered, and took another bite of his bread; but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel sad sometimes.
Jenny went to the final Saturday performance of the show before it closed. Delia was in good voice, she thought as she listened from her front row seat, and she wondered who had taught her; except at school, she couldn’t recall ever hearing her sing when they were young, but then she maybe didn’t have much to sing about. However, she did remember that at the school Christmas carol service, when their parents and the vicar and the Sunday school teacher came to hear them, Miss Scrowston who taught them music and games always told Delia to stand at the back of their group so that her voice carried over the top of everyone else’s.
She never sang at any other time, Jenny thought, never hummed a tune, never in my presence anyway. Poor Delia. I wonder if she was always unhappy and never said.
She waited for her at the stage door and saw her hunched into her coat as she came towards her.
‘Jenny,’ Delia said as if surprised. ‘Have you been to the show?’
‘Yes, didn’t you see me? I was in the front row.’
‘No,’ Delia said. ‘The lights are very bright and I tend to look into the distance, which makes most members of the audience think I’m looking directly at them.’
‘Are you joining me for supper?’ Jenny asked. ‘I’ve booked a table.’
‘Just for the two of us? Yes, all right. That will be nice.’ She hesitated. ‘I’ll just tell Giles, then he won’t worry that I’m walking back alone.’
She re-joined Jenny a few minutes later and together they set off for the Maritime. They both huddled into their coats and scarves, as the weather was turning bitterly cold.
‘Is Giles becoming a special friend?’ Jenny asked.
‘No, I told you, I only met him when I first came to Hull. I’d just got off the train from Hedon and saw him – on the – station platform …’ Too late she realized that she’d given herself away.
Jenny turned to her as they walked. ‘You went to Hedon? When was that?’
‘When – I first came back – I went to Hedon, and then walked to Paull to see my parents.’ She swallowed hard. ‘Well, only my mother. I suspect my father was down in one of the village hostelries, but in any case it doesn’t matter where he was because my mother didn’t want to speak to me. She didn’t even open the door more than a crack.’ Her voice was choked and she felt as if she couldn’t breathe. ‘She told me I wasn’t welcome.’
‘For heaven’s sake!’ Jenny exploded, and shepherded Delia down towards the Maritime. ‘What on earth is the matter with the woman? Did you commit a crime or something?’ She pushed the door open into the hotel and they were greeted by warmth and chatter and then a welcome from Mr Gosling.
‘Good evening, Miss Robinson. Good evening, Miss Delamour. How lovely to see you both.’ He gave Delia a complicit smile and a raised eyebrow and nodded his head very slightly.
‘Good evening, Mr Gosling,’ Jenny replied for both of them. ‘We’re in fearful need of a brandy to warm us, if you please. Miss Delamour is frozen through and she mustn’t catch a chill; it will play havoc with her voice.’
‘Oh, indeed!’ He pushed first one chair and then another towards a fireplace where a bright fire was burning. ‘Come,’ he said. ‘Sit down and warm yourselves. Perhaps some hot punch might be acceptable?’
‘Lovely, thank you,’ Jenny said, whilst Delia gave him a weak smile of acceptance.
When the punch and a plate of biscuits had been brought Jenny urged Delia to take a drink to calm her before she said quietly, ‘Why didn’t you tell me before? You’ve been holding this in ever since we met again. Surely you could have trusted me?’
Delia turned moist eyes towards her friend. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve kept everything to myself for such a long time that I’ve forgotten how to trust. My friend down south is the only person I could have confided in, and I haven’t told even him everything about myself.’
Something niggled at the back of Jenny’s mind.
‘Why would I tell him?’ Delia continued, her tongue loosening from the effect of the punch. ‘Why would I risk losing his friendship merely to unburden myself?’
‘If he’s a true friend you wouldn’t lose it,’ Jenny said confidently. ‘You wouldn’t lose mine if you unburdened yourself to me.’
Delia felt totally miserable. Was that true? Could she risk losing Jenny’s friendship if she confessed when they had just found each other again? Jenny would be torn in two, unlike Arthur who could simply walk away. But then, would he? He was very fond of Jack; often called him my boy when they met.
‘Arthur is a gentleman,’ she said. ‘A real gentleman, I mean. He’s different from anyone else I know. I think he’s been brought up by a different set of rules. In fact I doubt if his parents even know that he appears on the stage. He certainly doesn’t do it for the money, but for the pleasure of telling a tale.’
‘He sounds fascinating,’ Jenny said and took a proffered menu from a young maid. ‘I’d like to meet him one day.’
They chose food from the menu, Delia selecting something light and not too expensive, which Jenny noted but didn’t remark upon. Instead she said, ‘I was going to tell you about my visit home.’
Delia held her breath. What was she about to hear? Is my boy still there? Because if he isn’t, if they’ve sent him on somewhere else, then I must go and look for him.
‘What?’ Jenny said. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes, yes, perfectly,’ Delia mumbled.
Jenny gave a slight frown, and then went on. ‘It was the usual frenzy, but the good news is that Jack and Susan are moving out. Do you remember Barney Foggit? Well, he died and his wife has gone’ – she waved her hand vaguely – ‘to a daughter’s, I think, and Jack applied for the house.’
‘Oh, I do remember them. The farm was between your house and ours.’
‘They’re moving after Christmas,’ Jenny went on. ‘Susan lost the child she was expecting, unfortunately, and now they’re all busy getting the house ready, painting it and sorting out furniture and so on, but listen to this. They’re taking three girls with them, but leaving Molly with my ma and da. She’s a special child, shall we say. She needs more attention and kindness than I think Susan has to offer. Ma’s asked the headmaster of the Thorngumbald school if he’ll allow her to go for a couple of days a week and he said that he would.’ She pondered for a moment before saying, ‘I think he might be obliged to, when I think about it.
‘But here’s the other thing,’ she went on. ‘There’s a young boy living with my ma and da. He’s about Louisa’s age, and he just turned up after the hirings; he came home in the wagon with the other children and, well, you know my ma – she told him he could stay until his mother came looking for him. He’s an absolute charmer, entertains the girls, and Molly
says he’s teaching her to read. He does the White Rabbit in a funny voice and the girls fall about laughing.’
She paused. ‘Are you sure you’re all right, Delia?’ she said, leaning towards her. ‘You’re looking very flushed!’
‘Yes!’ Delia said in a strangled voice. ‘I’m fine. The – the punch has gone to my head.’
‘Anyway, Ma has informed the police; Da said they had to in case they were accused of abducting him or something,’ Jenny went on. ‘But it’s what, over a month, and there’s no sign of his mother.’
‘What’s his name?’ Delia managed.
‘Robin Jackson.’ When Jenny saw the expression on Delia’s face, a fusion of misery, relief and overpowering emotion, she realized for the first time that her friend had been playing a part ever since they had met again. The calm face and behaviour had been merely a mask; this was the real Delia, a woman in distress.
‘Delia,’ she said softly. ‘What is it?’
‘Help me, Jenny.’ Delia began to weep. ‘I’m drowning!’
And then everything fell into place. ‘My God,’ Jenny whispered. ‘He’s yours, isn’t he? Robin is your child!’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Mr Gosling came to say their table was ready and looked enquiringly at Jenny; she gave a gentle shake of her head and mouthed Five minutes. He brought a pot of coffee which they hadn’t asked for, but were thankful to drink.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Jenny whispered. ‘I think you should.’
Delia nodded; her hand trembled as she picked up the coffee cup. ‘In a minute,’ she said. ‘When I think of the best way to explain.’
Jenny waited. What a plight to be in, she thought. This must be why her parents won’t talk to her, and the reason for throwing her out all those years ago. How could they? Their only daughter! She must only have been seventeen when – when … How did she keep it secret from me? And who was the reprobate who violated her, for I’m quite sure that she was innocent. We both were. Neither of us knew any boys to talk to, apart from the ones who’d been at school, and there was never one of them with anything but farming or fishing on his mind. Both girls had left the school when they were thirteen, Delia to help her mother at home and Jenny to a day school in Hull, travelling back and forth on the train every day.