A Mother's Choice

by Val Wood

  ‘I am Rosie’s friend, Molly.’ Robin spoke up from the floor where he and Louisa were engrossed in a noisy game of pick up sticks. ‘And Emma’s and Louisa’s and your cousin Ben’s as well.’

  ‘You’ve got a lot of friends, Robin,’ Delia said, and lifted Rosie on to her knee.

  He looked up at her. ‘I have,’ he agreed. ‘I only really had one before, didn’t I, Arthur Crawshaw, and he was a grown-up friend.’ He turned back to the game and shouted with glee when Louisa’s pile of sticks collapsed. ‘Wouldn’t he be surprised if he saw me now? I wish I could write to him and tell him what a good time I’m having, but we don’t know where he is.’

  After about twenty minutes the door opened and Jenny glanced round at them all, her gaze lingering not on Robin but on Louisa. ‘I’ve made yet more tea, Delia, and we’ll have to think about going in an hour or so if we’re to catch our train. Jack and Susan are about to go home.’

  ‘I’m going with them.’ Emma stood up and Rosie slid from Delia’s knee and said, ‘I fink I will as well.’

  Delia got up too. ‘I’ll come and say goodbye,’ she murmured. ‘Will that be all right?’

  Jenny nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said, her voice catching. ‘I think so.’ Delia approached Susan. ‘We haven’t been introduced, Susan,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m Delia, Robin’s mother.’

  ‘Yes.’ Susan flushed, and seemed embarrassed. ‘I’m pleased to meet you.’ Her voice was low and husky, as if she had been crying. ‘I gather that Robin’s going to stay here for a while. My – our girls are really fond of him. Especially Louisa.’

  ‘And me.’ Molly had followed behind them. ‘He’s learned me to read.’

  ‘Taught you, Molly,’ Emma butted in. ‘Not learned.’

  ‘That’s what I said!’ Molly declared, and Delia understood that a good deal of patience was needed where Molly was concerned.

  ‘We’re just off home.’ Jack came over to Delia and put his hand on Susan’s shoulder. He was very subdued. ‘We’ll see you again next time you come, won’t we? We’ll – erm, have a chat and sort things out, mebbe? To see how to go about things? I’m …’ He heaved a breath. ‘I’m – really sorry to have caused you so much—’

  ‘Yes,’ Delia broke in. ‘We’ll talk.’ She could barely comprehend that she was speaking almost normally to the man she had reviled in her heart for so long.

  Robin came behind her and put his arm round her waist and she looked down and wound hers about him too. ‘I’m pleased that you’ve met my mother, Jack,’ he said, smiling up at them both. ‘And you too, Susan. Now everybody knows everybody else!’

  Delia was proud of him; he behaved perfectly well with adults and wasn’t in the least shy, and yet responded well with children too, and it was as if he’d found a niche, as if being part of a family was what he had craved. She looked at Jack, who was observing Robin as if he couldn’t quite believe what had happened either, and then he glanced at Louisa and put his hand over his mouth as if he was suddenly overwhelmed by something. A second later he drew the little girl towards him and planted a kiss on the top of her head.

  Susan leaned forward and put her cheek against Delia’s. ‘We’ll try to make it work out, Delia,’ she whispered. ‘Honest we will.’

  Jack didn’t offer Delia a kiss and she was glad that he didn’t, but he held out his hand to her and hurriedly repeated that they’d meet again soon.

  When they’d gone, Robin, Louisa and Molly went back into the parlour to clear away their games. Peggy sat down and put her head back on the chair and closed her eyes.

  ‘I feel as if I’ve been through ’mangle,’ she sighed. ‘I hope I never have another day like this one.’

  ‘I’m sorry—’ Delia began.

  Peggy cut her short. ‘Don’t you dare apologize,’ she said. ‘Nothing’s your fault, and Aaron says we’ve to get over all our apologies and begin again. As long as ’bairns are all right. That’s what’s important.’

  ‘Yes,’ Delia said quietly. ‘I agree.’

  ‘And I mean our Louisa as well as Robin.’ Peggy lowered her voice. ‘In case Jenny hasn’t mentioned anything to you, we now have ’truth about Louisa.’

  Delia raised her eyebrows and waited.

  ‘She’s not our Jack’s child.’ There was a note of anguish in Peggy’s voice. ‘I have to say, it came as no great surprise, and yet … ’truth teks some getting used to. But there we are! Jack and Susan mek a good match. It seems,’ she went on, wiping a teary eye and seeming to give herself a mental shake, ‘that we’ve lost one grandchild but gained another.’

  Delia asked if they might leave ten minutes earlier and drive down to the estuary before they went to catch their train. ‘It’s been a long time since I last looked at the Humber,’ she told Aaron. ‘It was part of my life for so long. I watched its moods every day, and every day they changed.’

  ‘I can understand that,’ he murmured. ‘Having been a fisherman I’ve a bond with ’river; sometimes … well, this might seem strange’ – he glanced about the room but only Delia was listening – ‘but at one time, when I was a young man, it seemed to talk to me, telling me whether or not to go out or stay ashore, and sometimes when to head home.’ He sighed. ‘I don’t feel it much nowadays, cos I don’t go out so often. But I tell you what, that lad of yours, he’s got a feel for it too. He’s not afraid of it.’

  ‘He must get that from you,’ she murmured.

  ‘Aye, mebbe, or …’ He cast a questioning glance at her and raised his head in the direction of her old home.

  She shook her head and said decisively, ‘I hope Robin has inherited nothing from my side.’

  Aaron smiled. ‘Except from you, Delia. Bravery and determination are just two qualities I could think of.’

  Peggy gave them a blanket to put over their knees as they drove away, as the weather was getting even colder. There was a pale sun and a few patches of blue sky through the dark cloud; Aaron said he thought there might be snow heading their way. Robin had asked if he could come to the station to see his mother off and Peggy gave him a woolly hat to wear and turned up his coat collar, and then brought out another blanket.

  They headed down the track towards the village; the river glinted in front of them, and they felt the chill of the wind as they drove nearer. Gulls and other estuarine birds flew low over the water in their hunt for fish.

  ‘See them low clouds, Robin,’ Aaron said, ‘and how they’re flattening out, and feel that Arctic wind coming up ’estuary? That tells you that snow is on ’way.’

  ‘It would be too cold a day to go out fishing then, wouldn’t it?’ Robin asked. ‘Although I thought that there might be plenty of fish coming in from the sea.’

  ‘What meks you think that?’

  ‘Well, didn’t you say the other day that the smolt would soon be coming to the estuary to spawn?’ He turned to his mother. ‘Smolts are a young salmon and spawn means laying their eggs,’ he explained.

  ‘I see.’ Delia nodded and hid a smile. ‘Of course.’

  ‘So I thought that the smolt might be starting to come, to get ready, you know.’

  ‘Ah,’ Aaron said. ‘But it’s not only about ’weather being warm or cold – and it’s still much too cold for them – but it’s also about ’condition of ’water. Here at Paull, nearer to ’sea, there’s more saline in ’estuary waters and certain types of fish can tolerate it and others can’t. So, for instance, you’d find some cod or plaice and turbot round here, but at ’top end of ’estuary where there’s fresher water with less saline you’d mebbe find tench or carp or roach.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ Robin murmured. ‘There’s quite a lot to learn, isn’t there?’

  There was a heavy swell on the river and brisk white-flecked waves broke over the bank and thrashed on to the road. Delia recalled when she had lived in Paull if the tide had been very high it several times flooded the bottom of her father’s land and nothing would grow there. He never built up the bank to avoid the problem;
he was a fisherman and didn’t seem to care about the land. He kept a mule for pulling his cart which was allowed to graze, but her mother was the one who dug and grew fruit and vegetables, and kept a cow and goats, and hens and ducks with their wings clipped so that they wouldn’t fly off, although they often found their way to the waterlogged field and paddled contentedly.

  ‘You, erm, don’t go out if the weather’s bad, do you?’ she asked Aaron, worrying about Robin in the deep water. ‘Robin isn’t a strong swimmer.’

  Aaron shook his head. ‘It wouldn’t mek any difference if he were a champion swimmer,’ he answered. ‘With boots and a heavy coat nobody’d stand a chance in that deep water. But you don’t need to worry. We don’t tek any chances.’

  ‘No, of course you won’t,’ she murmured. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just that—’

  ‘That you’ve allus been there to protect him,’ he acknowledged. ‘I know. But there’re others to look out for him as well now.’

  They drove down the long village street and Delia observed that nothing seemed to have changed since she was a girl here; the same village shop where she was sent on errands, women standing on their doorsteps with hands in their apron pockets, taking a breath of air or looking to see who was about to chat to; then Aaron took another track back and along to Thorngumbald and on to the Hedon road.

  ‘Will you come back soon?’ Robin asked when they arrived at the station. ‘I shall miss you.’ He clung to her and once more she felt guilty about leaving him behind, even though she knew that it was in his best interests. Peggy and Aaron could do more for his well-being than she could. But it still didn’t seem right.

  ‘I’ll come back as soon as I can,’ she said. ‘This run at the theatre is nearly finished so I’ll have more time.’ Though heaven knows what I’ll do for money, she pondered. I still won’t have two farthings to rub together.

  They climbed aboard the train and Delia felt a lump in her throat as the whistle blew and the engine got up steam and they slowly chuffed out of the station; she thought her heart would break when she saw Aaron put his hand on Robin’s shoulder as he waved and waved until she could no longer see him for the pall of steam and smoke that surrounded them.

  They sat down and Jenny murmured, ‘It seemed to go well, considering.’

  It was upsetting for Jack and for me, Delia thought. I was so nervous and he, well, he seemed to have had no thought of the effect his actions might have had. He said he was ashamed, and perhaps now he realizes the enormity of what happened. Susan was pregnant and he thought Louisa was his child, yet the question of my possible pregnancy doesn’t seem to have occurred to him.

  She gave a deep sigh and Jenny looked at her. ‘Yes,’ Delia said slowly. ‘I suppose we could say that.’

  They didn’t talk much on the journey; Delia wasn’t inclined for conversation and Jenny seemed to understand that. The train drew in to Hull and they stepped down; a train had arrived at another platform and she was reminded of when she’d come back from Hedon after the hiring fair, when she’d left Robin behind and she followed the theatre performers.

  They were walking towards the exit and the cab stand when Delia heard a voice calling her name. They both stopped and turned and Delia’s face lit into a smile when she saw Giles Dawson striding towards them with luggage in his hand.

  ‘I’m so pleased to see you,’ he said to Delia, and then tipped his hat to Jenny, ‘Miss Robinson.’

  ‘I’m pleased to see you too,’ Delia said, feeling an immediate lifting of spirits. It was true she was delighted to see him; she had missed him when he wasn’t there. He looked rather drawn and tired, though, and she hoped he and his wife had managed to sort through their difficulties.

  ‘Can we share a cab?’ he asked. ‘Miss Robinson, are you staying in town?’

  Jenny was about to answer when another voice called out behind them. A man’s voice with a distinctive accent, not a northern one.

  ‘Miss Delamour! Delia!’

  Delia turned once more and was astonished to see Arthur Crawshaw bearing down on them, looking disgruntled and yet relieved. ‘Delia,’ he exclaimed as he approached. ‘At last! Where on earth have you been? I’ve searched everywhere for you. And where is my boy?’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Delia gasped, ‘Arthur,’ but she also caught sight of the expressions on the faces of her companions: Jenny’s of simple astonishment, but Giles’s of bewilderment and disbelief, and she realized that he had heard Arthur’s words and picked up entirely the wrong implication. Surely he didn’t think—but perhaps he did, for he was turning away.

  ‘Jenny, Giles,’ she said hurriedly. ‘This is an old friend, a fellow performer, Mr Arthur Crawshaw, and a great friend to my son Robin. Arthur, these are my friends Miss Jenny Robinson and Mr Giles Dawson.’

  Arthur bowed to Jenny, murmuring ‘Delighted’, and shook hands with a reluctant Giles, who was resuming his composure.

  ‘But what are you doing here, Arthur?’ she asked. ‘This is a long way from your usual haunts.’

  ‘Indeed it is,’ he boomed, ‘and it has taken me all day to get here! That idiot of an agent you employ only told me last week that you had come north, and I asked him weeks ago to find out where you were. Look here, I’m staying here at the hotel; can we go in? I’m desperate to sit somewhere comfortable and have a glass of whisky to revive me.’ He turned to Giles. ‘What do you say, old chap? Will you join me? And the ladies might perhaps like a glass of sherry?’

  ‘I’ve only just got off the train myself,’ Giles said stiffly. ‘I was heading to my lodgings.’

  ‘What about you, Miss Robinson?’

  Delia glanced at Jenny; she knew she would be flattered that he remembered her name and then was astounded when Arthur said abruptly, ‘Robinson? Are you a relative of our young Jack?’

  Giles looked from one to another, and Delia thought he must be totally confused; by his expression he seemed to be thinking that he’d like to be elsewhere.

  ‘I’ll get off, I think,’ Giles said bluntly. ‘You’ve probably much to talk about with your … friend. Will you be all right to get back to Mrs Benson’s, Miss Delamour?’

  ‘Yes,’ she answered, ‘I will, but I’d like to speak to you. Much has been happening, as I expect it has for you too.’

  He hesitated, and then murmured, ‘All right, I’ll stay. Thank you, Mr Crawshaw, I will avail myself of your hospitality.’

  Crawshaw had the hotel staff running hither and thither at his command. He told them to be sure they gave him a good room and to make certain there was plenty of hot water for his bath. Delia asked for a pot of tea, and Arthur commented wryly that he could tell she hadn’t taken to drink since coming north; Jenny asked for a glass of port purely because he had suggested sherry; and the two men ordered whisky. Then they all settled back in their chairs, and Arthur turned to Delia.

  ‘Now then, m’dear. Where is young Jack, and why did you come haring up to this godforsaken place?’

  ‘It isn’t a godforsaken place,’ Delia answered. ‘It’s an old town with lots of theatres and music halls; and,’ she added, ‘with kind and friendly people. Where are you playing?’

  ‘I’m not,’ he said, stretching out his legs. ‘I’m finished with all of that – for the time being anyway. But you haven’t answered my question. Where is Jack?’

  ‘Jack has changed his name,’ she parried. ‘He’s Robin now.’

  ‘Ah!’ he exclaimed. ‘I told him he should if he really didn’t like being called Jack. Defy your father and refuse your name.’

  Jenny looked curiously at them. ‘Was that really why he changed it? He didn’t like to be called Jack?’

  Delia shook her head. ‘Jack Robinson,’ she said. ‘Because people teased him about Before you can say Jack Robinson. Nothing more than that, Jenny.’ She hesitated, and then said, ‘He didn’t know his father was called Jack Robinson. Still doesn’t.’ It had been a perverse act on her part to name him after the man who had
sired him. She had been young and angry. Now she was older she knew better. The name was a constant reminder.

  ‘So where is he?’ Arthur persisted. ‘You haven’t abandoned him?’

  Delia looked horrified. ‘No!’ she said. ‘No,’ and then she burst into tears and fished about in her pocket for a handkerchief. ‘Yes,’ she sobbed. ‘I did. But I’ve been to see him. He’s staying with his father’s parents, in the village where I once lived. They are Jenny’s parents too. Jenny is his aunt.’

  Giles leaned forward and handed her a clean handkerchief, and she gave a watery laugh as she took it. ‘I must buy you a box of handkerchiefs. I am constantly using yours.’

  ‘Delia,’ he said quietly, ‘are you sure that you want to discuss this now?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, taking a deep intake of breath. ‘I’m with friends I can trust,’ and as she said it she was immediately comforted. There had been times in her life when she had no one in whom to confide. ‘Although I’m sorry to burden you all.’ She wiped her eyes and cheeks and again could smell the refreshing cologne Giles used. She saw the look of concern on his face. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m so upset. Robin is safe; he’s with his grandparents, who love him, and I never ever thought I would be able to say that.’

  ‘That’s wonderful, m’dear,’ Arthur said kindly. ‘I’m so very pleased, although I will miss seeing him. I’ll write to him, if I may?’

  ‘He would love that, Arthur.’ Tears began to flow again. ‘He told me that he wished he could write to you and tell you what a good time he was having.’

  Arthur nodded. ‘So you can begin your life again, travel more and not worry about him,’ and Delia was sure that he glanced at Giles as he spoke. ‘He will understand, he’s a sensible boy.’

  After chatting for a while, they broke up. Everyone seemed tired and Giles asked the porter to get a cab for him and Delia for the short distance to their lodgings, and Jenny chimed in to ask him to order one for herself to Pearson Park.

  Arthur insisted that she shouldn’t travel alone, no matter that it was a Sunday evening and probably quiet in the town, and that he would be happy to escort her to her home. ‘Miss Delamour will vouch for my morals, I’m sure,’ he added, and Jenny quickly acquiesced, which Delia thought wasn’t at all like her fiercely independent friend.