The Child From Nowhere

by Freda Lightfoot

  ‘Too right. Even old Askew’s gone now, pushing up the daisies, poor old soul, and I’d do owt to get out of that house of nagging women. They’re driving me mad.’

  Kate made no comment to this, except to offer her condolences over the old gardener. ‘Where would you live? There’s no accommodation comes with this job.’

  ‘I’ll find somewhere, then mebbe Fanny and me can happen get wed at last. She’s right fed up that I’ve done nowt about it so far but that madam has done everything in her power to stop us. Doesn’t approve of servants marrying.’

  Kate pretended not to understand. ‘What madam would that be?’

  ‘Mr Charles’s widow, Lucy Tyson. Taken over the place she has, even giving the two aunts a run for their money, which they don’t care for at all. Do nothing but squabble over who’s in charge, them women do.’

  ‘I did hear that she was living at Tyson Lodge.’

  ‘Oh aye, she’s living there right enough. Nicely settled in she is, in every way. Very much so. Not that I don’t think the master isn’t regretting it. Spends most of the day in the factory, or locked in his study. You couldn’t call him entirely happy about the situation but he’s got himself lumbered, as you might say. Driven by his own loneliness, I dare say.’

  ‘I see.’ There was a small silence while Kate digested the unspoken information Dennis was giving her with his winks and nods and insinuations. She understood well enough what he was trying to tell her, that Eliot was sleeping with his sister-in-law. Information she would much rather not have been privy too, since it made her feel sick to her stomach. Kate drew in a quick, steadying breath, and hardened her heart against any possibility of weakness which might lead to pity. If he was so lonely and unhappy he was driven to the arms of the dreaded Lucy, didn’t he deserve to be miserable and harassed to death by women? Serve him right. Hadn’t he treated her with heartless cruelty, made her out to be some sort of whore, when all the time he was as bad himself? Perhaps he would be equally heartless with dear Lucy in the end.

  ‘The job is yours, Dennis, if you want it.’

  As well as Dennis, Kate felt confident enough to take on a foreman: someone to keep a better eye on the work in progress. His name was Toby Lynch. Toby was a short, wiry man in his early thirties, with a tousle of blonde hair and a cheery grin.

  ‘Just so’s we’re clear from the start, I’ll stand no nonsense, no messing about with the women, if’n ye catch my drift. Or you’ll be out of here faster than a fart from a bottle. Understand?’

  He grinned. ‘Perfectly. Me mam and two sisters work for you already, so I know how the land lies. I’m grateful you’ve got ‘em out of Swainson’s hands.’

  Toby soon proved himself capable of the task as he’d had plenty of experience in the shoe trade and, best of all, Kate liked and trusted him, feeling quite safe to leave her precious business in his hands, which released her to go out on the road every day to seek yet more orders. And with Dennis to drive her, she was able to cover a much wider territory as well as carry some stock with her, making deliveries along the way.

  The farmer’s market took place in Kendal every Wednesday. It had been doing so in one form or another since King Richard the Lionheart had first granted the charter back in the twelfth century. The big two-wheeled farmer’s carts today, in the spring of 1915, stood in a tidy row the length of the market, and the housewives who walked by would stop to buy butter and eggs, potatoes and green vegetables.

  With the business running smoothly and it being May Day, Kate had awarded herself a morning off. She walked along swinging her basket, Flora skipping beside her. The little girl was wearing a pale blue pinafore, yellow blouse, and a straw sun-bonnet to shade her head from the sun. They’d already watched the Morris Men, and the dancers around the maypole up on the green, though there’d been no beating of the bounds this year because of the war. This was a tradition where the aldermen and burgesses of the borough walked the boundaries of the town, scrambling over walls and ditches in order to do so. The townsfolk would often follow on behind to enjoy the fun. But at least the sun was shining and Kate felt happy and content, enjoying the rare treat of a day out with her child.

  ‘Now isn’t this a grand sight? What would you like, my princess? A stick of coltsfoot rock, a glass of lemonade or a twist of candy sugar?’

  ‘Candy sugar, candy sugar, Mammy.’

  Laughing, Kate bought the stick of pink candy and gave it to Flora who instantly stuck it in her mouth. ‘Don’t eat it too fast now. Oh look, I must buy some of these cherries. We could make a delicious later. Wouldn’t that be fun?’

  While Kate waited for the farmer’s wife to weigh out the fruit, Flora gazed about her with open curiosity, quickly growing bored as her mother seemed to be taking forever, chatting away to the woman, choosing other items which were not quite such fun, like a turnip, cabbage, potatoes and onions. Sauntering along the line of the carts she came to another which sold entirely butter and eggs, apparently being minded by one red haired boy.

  Flora had been warned not to speak to strangers so she sucked on her sweet, gazing at him wide-eyed and said nothing. But she could tell by the way his gaze was fastened on the sticky pink candy twist, that he was hungry.

  ‘Give us a lick,’ he said at last, his need overcoming good manners.

  Flora considered, but she was a kind little girl at heart and began to feel sorry for the boy. He looked nice enough if a bit hot and tired, with a round face and bright copper hair. She broke off the bottom part of her sweet and handed it to him. He snatched it greedily from her and stuffed it into his mouth in one gulp, crunching on the candy so that it was gone in seconds.

  ‘Flora, Flora where are you?’

  Flora rolled her eyes. ‘That’s my mammy.’

  The boy stepped forward for a better look. ‘Who, the one with red hair? She looks nice.’

  Flora let out an exasperated sigh. ‘I suppose so. A bit of a fusspot. Won’t let me do anything or go anywhere, but you know how mother’s are.’

  ‘No, I don’t, s’matter of fact. I haven’t got a mother.’

  Flora’s eyes stretched wider. ‘No mother? Don’t talk soft, everybody has a mother.’

  ‘Well I don’t. I’m an orphan, see. I live on t’farm with Mr and Mrs Brocklebank.’

  ‘Flora, where are you?’

  ‘Got to go,’ and spinning on her heels, Flora skipped happily back to where Kate stood waiting for her, her basket heavy with produce.

  Grabbing the child’s hand, she gave her daughter a little shake. ‘What do you think you were doing wandering off like that? That was very naughty. Haven’t I told you to stay by me?’

  ‘I was only talking to that boy.’

  ‘Never mind what you were doing. You do what I say and stick by my side. Is that clear?’

  Flora silently nodded, and with her hand clasped firmly in her mother’s, meekly fell into step beside her, glancing back only once when they reached the end of the street. The boy was still watching them and Flora lifted a hand to wave goodbye.

  ‘Who are you waving to?’ Kate asked, feeling guilty at her over-reaction. The child had only gone to the next-but-one cart, not even out of sight. She really must allow her some freedom and not be so consumed by the fear of losing her. She turned now to see who it was who had caught her daughter’s attention, but saw no one of particular importance at all, other than a fat farmer’s wife berating her child by clipping him about the head. Poor boy. What had he done to deserve such a cluttering, she wondered. How cruel some mother’s were.

  She smiled down at Flora, who was looking quite distressed over the little scene, and attempted to distract her. ‘Come along, my precious, we shall go home and make cherry pie, then eat the lot.’

  Kate didn’t notice when the young boy wriggled free to escape the thrashing, and ran after her for some distance, at least until she’d turned into Finkle Street, where he stopped and stood by the lamp post and watched her walk away, still laughing and c
hattering to her pretty little daughter, until she’d quite vanished from sight.

  A few weeks later, Fanny walked into Kate’s workshop with a swagger. It amused Kate to see the housemaid flush with embarrassment as she came towards her. ‘What a joy it is to see you again, Fanny, and looking so well. What’re you doing in my neck of the woods?’

  Fanny glowered, the cheeks flushing pinker than ever, for this Kate O’Connor cut a very different figure from the one whose feet had been filthier than her own boots all those years before. She was no longer a nursemaid, but an employer, one who deserved increasing respect in the town. And Fanny needed work. ‘I’m all right, I suppose, but me and Dennis, we’re not gerrin wed. He’s tekken up with some shop assistant or other. Right little floozy, she is.’

  ‘Oh dear, I’m sorry to hear that, I am so.’ Since Dennis was her driver, Kate was well aware of his new domestic arrangements, but thought it best not to admit as much at this juncture.

  ‘Don’t be. I’ll survive. Only I’ll ring his flamin’ neck and throttle him if the Hun don’t do it first.’

  Kate nodded sympathetically, waiting patiently for whatever Fanny had come to say. When still she hesitated, showing no sign of coming to the point, she was forced to prompt her with, ‘So what can I do for ye on this bright morning?’

  The housemaid cleared her throat. ‘The fact is Kate - er - Miss er - um.’

  ‘Kate will do fine.’

  Now that she’d finally started it all came out in a rush, on one swift indrawn breath. ‘The fact of the matter is Mr Tyson has decided to take the King’s shilling and be an officer and I can’t stand being a housemaid no longer, not in that house. I’m fed up with all the work and being bossed about, and me wages haven’t gone up in years. What with old Mr Askew dead, and Dennis gone, that leaves Mrs Petty, me and daft Ida to look after that big place and the two aunts. Not forgetting madam herself, of course, who never lifts a finger. So I’m not stopping on. I’ve had enough.’

  Kate’s recollection of what Fanny had told her got stuck somewhere around the part where she’d said Eliot had joined up. Dear God, no, don’t let him do that!

  ‘By heck, I don’t mind telling you, Kate, ‘cause I know you’ll understand but she’s a right one and no mistake. A nastier piece of work you wouldn’t find in a long day’s march. Why, just the other day she made me clean and black lead all the grates twice over because she said I hadn’t done ‘em proper. She called me a lazy slut. Lazy my eye, when I spend me bleeding life on me knees in that house, and not saying prayers neither. And you know what I caught her up to t’other morning . . .’

  Kate had heard enough servant’s gossip. ‘You say Mr Tyson has joined up. When did he do that? When does he leave?’

  ‘Sometime in the next week or two, I imagine, off to do his training first though. Anyroad, like I were saying . . .’

  Kate set her hands flat on the desk top, since they’d started to tremble, and leaning closer, fixed the girl with a stern glare. ‘Fanny, I haven’t all day to sit here listening to your tittle-tattle. What is it, exactly, that you are wanting from me? Would it be a job by any chance?’

  The housemaid looked shame-faced but admitted that it was. ‘I’m looking for a fresh start, a new beginning. I thought you might help me to get one, since we’re old chums like.’

  Kate thought this description a somewhat exaggerated view of their relationship but made no comment on Fanny’s assessment. ‘You know, of course, that Dennis is working for me too. Would that not bother you, in view of your current differences? Because I don’t want any trouble, Fanny. I don’t want you imagining you can win him back, and then causing mischief when you don’t succeed.’

  Fanny’s cheeks flared bright crimson, for of course winning him back had indeed been on her mind, but her voice was quite steady as she told her lie. ‘I wouldn’t have him back if he were wrapped up in a parcel and tied with a scarlet ribbon. No, I’m finished wi’ men. And I’m done wi’ being an housemaid an’ all.’

  Kate was still doubtful, remembering the way the girl had sent her to Coventry. She’d been so imperious in her manner, as if she were God’s gift and Kate something the cat had dragged in. Yet she didn’t blame her for wanting to better herself. Domestic service was a thankless task, particularly working for the likes of Lucy Tyson, and she’d earn much more money in the workshop. ‘I’m not taking anyone on at the moment but since you and I are – as you say - old chums in a manner of speaking, I’ll make an exception in your case. You can start tomorrow in the tongue department.’

  ‘Oh Kate… oh thank you, miss, thank you. I’m that grateful.’ Fanny’s eyes shone and for one dreadful moment Kate thought she might actually be about to hug her, but then she hastily backed away. Yet the girl’s obvious joy brought a smile to Kate’s lips. There were many kinds of abuse, and perhaps Madam Lucy had bullied this lass once too often. Fanny deserved a chance too, just as much as the women in Poor House Lane.

  ‘That’s settled then. You can go now. I’ll see you in the morning, sharp at seven.’

  ‘Yes miss.’ It was only when she reached the door that Fanny thought to ask, ‘What’s the tongue department? What do I have to do there?’

  ‘Certainly not use your own tongue, Fanny. We can hear quite enough of that at other times.’

  She had the grace to giggle.

  ‘I’ve girls to make the eyelets in the boots, others to put in the lining if there is one, some to fold the leather in a process called sciving, while others close up and stitch the toe. You, Fanny, will join the girls whose task it is to put in the tongue. But don’t worry, you’ll be given very clear instructions tomorrow, so don’t be late.’

  As Fanny dashed off, thoroughly pleased with herself, Kate sank back into her chair before her knees quite gave way. She just hoped that she’d done the right thing and that Fanny would suit, and change her mind about throttling poor Dennis. Yet all she really cared about was that Eliot was leaving. He would soon be going to war.

  Chapter Four

  Lucy slammed down her knife and fork in a fury. As if things weren’t bad enough, Eliot had taken it into his head to play the hero. It had come like a bolt from the blue when he’d made the announcement over dinner, quite ruining her appetite. She hadn’t even guessed that he intended to enlist which meant that he’d escape her clutches just when she’d thought of capturing him.

  Lucy was against the war; had joined the Women’s Peace League to raise money for the cause, campaigning for it to be stopped. However genuine the emotions of the other pacifists, Lucy was simply concerned with the disruption to her own life. And she’d had quite enough of that already.

  The aunts, fools that they were, entirely supported Eliot’s decision. ‘Quite right, dear chap,’ Aunt Vera said, pursing her mouth into a prim line of approval. ‘The right and proper thing for a gentleman to do is join the call to arms.’

  ‘Oh, indeed,’ agreed her sisterly echo, patting and stroking the dog leaning against her with great excitement.

  But it was Lucy who gave a small growl of annoyance, which Aunt Vera heard. ‘What did you say, dear?’

  ‘I said, how can Eliot be so foolish as to enlist when he is needed here, to run the company? How are we supposed to manage without him? Who on earth will run the business while you’re away, playing the hero?’ she demanded, fixing him with an icy glare. ‘Surely you don’t expect me to keep an eye on things for you?’

  Eliot gave Lucy a cool, distancing smile. ‘I’ve made the necessary arrangements. And no, you will not be troubled. I have my accounts clerk to deal with the day to day issues of paying wages and outstanding bills, including, dear sister-in-law, your own allowance, so you will not be inconvenienced in any way. Although I would remind you that there is a war on, and prudence and thrift are the order of the day.’

  ‘Poppycock, I’m not letting some jumped up little Hun ruin my life. Isn’t it bad enough that I have no home of my own and am forced to live on handouts and charity?�
� Lucy felt trapped, stifled, living here with the two dragons, as she privately thought of the aunts. She’d been patient long enough. She wanted, deserved, a home of her own, a husband and money in the bank to see her comfortable and secure. She wasn’t old like them, but still young with more than half of her life still to be lived and enjoyed. She should never have been deprived of the house on Stramongate, she thought, quite forgetting that it had been her own decision to move into Tyson Lodge, not to mention her own reckless spending which had put both her homes in jeopardy.

  ‘Why don’t you do something to stop that girl from destroying us? Why don’t you fight back and beat her at her own game? Surely, with the power of Tyson’s name, it would be an easy matter to put her out of business.’

  ‘By that girl, I assume you mean Kate O’Connor?’

  ‘I mean that no good chit of a whore, the girl who sold you her own child and then lost him through her habitual carelessness.’

  Eliot winced at her bluntness, biting back an instinctive urge to defend Kate for hadn’t he accused her of the self-same thing in the past? Yet he felt honour bound to speak, for nothing of the sort had been proved and he’d lived to regret his hasty judgement of her. ‘I’m not sure that is correct. And however irritating, her business is nothing more than normal, healthy competition. She has substantial orders from the army and is even now negotiating a contract with the Russian government?’

  ‘Tch, the woman must sleep with every Tom, Dick and Harry in order to achieve so much, so quickly. She’s a self-seeking slut. . .’

  Lucy went on talking, going on and on about Kate O’Connor but Eliot had stopped listening. He felt thoroughly wearied of women. He’d be glad to get away and be in the company of men for a change, war or no war.

  ‘. . . You could at least stop being so damned honourable. She’s deliberately set out to ruin you. Any fool can see that. Having stolen Dennis, Fanny’s gone to work for her now. She’s taking us over. Why you allow her to get away with it, is quite beyond me. I would’ve thought you’d have put your own niece and nephews first.’