The Child From Nowhere

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The Child From Nowhere Page 12

by Freda Lightfoot


  Kate felt some small degree of satisfaction as she saw the colour drain from her sister-in-law’s cheeks, the tightness of Lucy’s jawline slacken in disbelief. And was that fear lurking in her troubled gaze? ‘You surely aren’t casting me out into the streets?’

  ‘Think yourself fortunate you won’t be spending the night under lock and key in a jail cell. I just hope that I don’t’ come to regret my generosity.’

  ‘You aren’t being in the least generous,’ Lucy snapped. ‘Where do you expect me to sleep? I don’t have any other home to go to. And how will I eat?’

  ‘Well now, the Kirkland Poor House is closed, as ye know, so mebbe you could try the Union Workhouse on Kendal Green, since you’re so well acquainted with the guardians there.’ She heard Callum’s soft chuckle and gently squeezed his shoulder, warning him to hush, before crossing the room and throwing open the parlour door. ‘For all I care, you can sleep in the gutter. You’re no longer welcome in this house. Your allowance will continue to be paid, for the time being at least, on condition that you stay away; that you never come near my children ever again. When Eliot returns, once he’s been given the full facts, he will no doubt make a decision on whether or not you should be punished, or deserve to receive any further assistance from the company. You did, after all, attempt to destroy his family.’

  The violet eyes flashed, revealing panic for the first time, yet Lucy remained obstinately defiant. ‘You think he’d abandon me, that he’d take your word against mine, a whore against a Tyson? Never!’

  Kate smiled. ‘You’re only a Tyson by marriage, as am I. But yes, I think he might well take my word, and that of his son, don’t you? He’ll be only too delighted to have Callum home safe and well, and you know it.’

  ‘You’d poison his mind against me?’

  ‘Oh, I think you’ve achieved that all on your own, without any assistance from me. And don’t see this as weakness on my part, or as any sign of forgiveness. No one abuses my children and gets away with it. But neither will I allow evil to flourish under my roof. So pack yer bags and leave. Now!’

  Mrs Petty declared, and Ida and Fanny heartily agreed, that they hadn’t enjoyed a more entertaining afternoon in years at Tyson Lodge. The raised voices in the parlour had naturally attracted their attention, bringing them creeping out into the hall so they could all the better hear what was going on. There’d been a slight interruption when the aunts had appeared with a sorry-looking Flora, and Ida was duly dispatched to fetch hot water and iodine. Cissie carried the child upstairs while Mrs Petty, Fanny and Miss Vera remained in the hall, ears pricked.

  Sadly, the exchange in the parlour had become somewhat muted so that they were forced to draw ever nearer in an effort to hear properly. Fanny swore that if blood looked like being drawn, she’d swallow her pride and run for Dennis. Ida, having scooted to the kitchen, drawn the hot water, flown up the stairs and back in record time, quickly returned to join the curious eavesdroppers.

  Mrs Petty felt quite certain that at any moment Miss Vera would notice their presence, scold them all and send them scurrying back into the kitchen. But she did nothing of the sort, being far too busy cocking an ear herself. And then the door was flung wide and they all had to quickly dip back into the shadows.

  The voices within rang out loud and clear, all about the wickedness done to those poor children by madam Lucy, of her being cast out into the streets and there being no chance of forgiveness, which Mrs Petty later declared was too good for her by half and she should be hung, drawn and quartered at the very least.

  Then Lucy stormed into the hall, a veritable dervish of fury, ordering Ida to pack her bags, and Fanny to fetch a cab as she refused to stay a moment longer in this house simply to be insulted. Not a soul among them moved an inch.

  ‘Do you hear what I say?’ Lucy screamed, stamping her foot and going red, white and all shades of purple by turn.

  It was Vera who had the temerity to step forward. ‘I believe no one is preventing you from leaving, Lucy. And perhaps, in the circumstances, it would be for the best. As ye sow, so shall ye reap.’

  Lucy had no option but to obey. She stormed upstairs to her room where she was obliged to pack her own bags and stagger down the stairs with them moments later before the humiliating gaze of the entire household. No punishment by the judicial system could have been more devastating at that moment, no departure more demeaning for a woman so obsessed with her own status. For her fall from grace to be witnessed by everyone, including the servants, in condemning silence, was utterly mortifying.

  Not a soul offered to open the door for her, and Lucy found herself out in the porch with not even a cab waiting, her instructions on this completely ignored. She was forced to abandon most of her luggage and walk to the station, although where she would go after that, she really hadn’t the first idea.

  And as the door swung closed on her furious, departing figure, Kate turned to Callum and held wide her arms. ‘Welcome home, son.’ And grinning from ear to ear, he walked into them to hug his mother tight.

  1919

  Chapter Eleven

  The woman ran through the gathering crowds on to the station platform, the wind ruffling her red hair, slapping it across her face as she struggled to pin her hat in place. People stepped out of her way with a smile, seeing how flustered she was. She was not the first to appear thus on this particular morning, except that this woman seemed different from most, her slender body erect with pride, her bearing one of dignity and grace despite her anxiety.

  She was regarding the train that stood puffing quietly at the platform with a mixture of outrage and defiance, as if it had no right to be there, and yet there was pain too, an agony in those soft grey eyes which made people turn away and pretend to concern themselves with the cloudy skies or a brown paper bag being blown along by the chill spring breeze.

  The woman grabbed a porter. ‘Is this the London train?’

  ‘It was last time I looked.’

  ‘When did it arrive?’

  ‘Five minutes ago, six mebbe. The twelve-ten, running on time.’

  Five minutes. Time enough for him to realise that she wasn’t there waiting for him, as she had promised. Time for him to wander off looking for her, perhaps? Kate glanced about, growing ever more frantic as the crowd thinned and people began to move away. Where could he be? What if he hadn’t even been on the train at all? Oh, my darling, let nothing happen now to prevent our glorious reunion.

  The men looking on couldn’t help wishing it were them she had rushed to see with such anxiety in her lovely face, while the women envied her sense of style, and that natural beauty which meant she could still look stunning, even with no hat and her hair blowing everywhere.

  She finally got the offending article in place, although the women tut-tutted when they saw that she did not possess a hat pin with which to anchor it. Consequently, mere seconds later it was knocked awry as a young soldier rushed past to gather his sweetheart tight in his arms, and they heard her cry out with despair.

  Would her soldier come?

  Kate Tyson stopped running and smoothed down her coat. Giving up on the hat, she tidied the rebellious red curls as best she could, pinning the mass of them back with a comb and a few hair grips, tucking a stray strand behind each ear.

  Her two-piece was of blue linen with semi-raglan sleeves and a high buttoned collar. The shoes, of course, were of the finest kid leather with the latest and fashionably high Louis heels. Most of all he would notice the shoes, and hopefully her trim ankles. Kate had spent hours getting ready, so wanting to look her best.

  If only Flora hadn’t kicked up such a fuss at breakfast time or Aunt Vera hadn’t launched into one of her interminable lectures, she would have been on time. Now here she was, despite all her best efforts, arriving late on a draughty station platform, heart beating like a drum, sick with nerves and shaking in every limb.

  Where was he? Where was he?

  He would think she’d forgotten, that sh
e hadn’t come.

  There wasn’t even a band playing in welcome. So different from the day on which she’d first seen Eliot off to war, four long years ago. On that day there’d been a mood of celebration, certainly high optimism. The town band had played, the Mayor and his good lady handing out gifts and parcels of food to the new recruits taking the King’s shilling. Almost as if the war were nothing more than a game which would soon be won and they’d all be back home with their loved ones by Christmas.

  But Christmas had come and gone and the war had dragged on. Too many of those bright, handsome young men never would return.

  On the day he’d joined up, Kate and Eliot had been very much at odds, not having spoken to each other for some years. Yet her love for him, even then, had over-ridden all their differences and she’d been unable to resist coming to see him off.

  That had been the day when she had admitted that Flora, her darling daughter, was indeed Eliot’s child, and later he’d come home on leave to make Kate his wife. Oh, she’d kicked up quite a fuss over that, had denied she needed him, but she couldn’t ever deny her love for him and so they had married, a joyous day with all their friends present and Flora as bridesmaid.

  Now Flora was a precocious ten year old and had thrown one of her tantrums at not being allowed to accompany her mother to the station, but Kate had been adamant. Her first meeting with Eliot after so long a separation must be private. They needed to be alone.

  Bad enough that they must return to a house full of gossiping servants, not to mention his two aunts who, dear as they were, could be extremely intrusive.

  And there was so much to tell him, so many details she had kept from him while he was serving King and country. Facts about the business, for a start, that would now need to be revealed with great tact and care. And quite how that would be achieved, Kate had no real idea, frowning with new anxiety at the thought.

  But there was much more to be explained than problems with the business. Eliot knew that, Callum, his adopted son, was safely home again, but Kate had never properly explained how that had come about, deciding it was something best told in person rather than a letter. She would simply have to play it by ear, make her judgements according to his reaction to the changes that had taken place in his absence.

  Kate felt a small nub of worry in the pit of her stomach when she thought of the reunion between man and boy. Eliot had always loved him as his own, but how would Callum react?

  The crowds were moving away, families holding their loved one close, children carried high in their father’s arms, some of them crying, not recognising this stranger who had burst into their lives.

  Heart beating a little faster, Kate clenched her gloved hands tight. What would she say to her husband? Would they feel like strangers or reunited lovers? How would it feel to have him hold her again?

  She momentarily closed her eyes on a rush of memory, remembering the glorious pressure of his body against hers, the warm touch of his hand, the roughness of his chin when he took her in a compelling kiss. Would she be shy like a young bride, or eager and passionate? To her shame, Kate rather thought it would be the latter.

  ‘Step back miss, if you please.’

  All such concerns were wiped from her mind as the station porter waved his green flag, doors slammed, a whistle blew and the next instant the train let out a great sigh and belch of steam, then slowly began to move out of the station. It was leaving, and still she hadn’t found him. Kate was running alongside it, checking every window. Could Eliot still be on board, fallen asleep perhaps, or leaving again because she hadn’t been here to meet him? No, no, he would never do that, surely. And then the train was gone, the platform was quite empty and she was alone.

  Kate sat in the parlour at Tyson Lodge and rocked herself in misery as the tears flowed unchecked down her cheeks. Lunch was over, the appetites of the two aunts, at least, not spoiled by anxiety as they had devoured several slices of bread and butter, boiled ham and tomatoes, and still Eliot had not come. Kate had been quite unable to eat a thing. But then, this was not at all how she had planned things.

  ‘Where is he? Why didn’t he wait? Admittedly the train arrived five or six minutes before I did, but where could he have disappeared to in that short time? He can’t have been on the train. Do you think he hasn’t come at all? Oh, I can’t bear the thought of something going wrong now, at this late stage.’

  Aunt Vera frowned at Kate over her spectacles. ‘Stop fretting, child. What could possibly go wrong? He probably missed that train and will be on the next. He is safe and well, be thankful for that. Our darling Eliot has survived the war and will soon be home in the bosom of his family where he belongs.’

  ‘Do you think so?’ Fresh hope began to glow inside Kate, masking her irritation that as a young matron of thirty-two she should still be addressed as if she were a child. Typical of Vera’s stern view of life, except that she was right in a way. Kate had been fretting for days.

  But then, she’d wanted everything to be perfect for Eliot’s homecoming.

  Kate had been up since dawn making things ready, helping Mrs Petty prepare food for a celebration like no other. In the last week Tyson Lodge had been turned inside out, every room scrubbed and polished and dusted, carpets beaten, vases filled with fresh flowers, everything in Eliot’s study arranged just as he liked it with his favourite pen in its holder, a brand new blotter on the leather topped desk, and the latest balance sheets from the factory waiting for him to peruse at his leisure.

  Kate herself had occupied this room for much of the war and a part of her wondered how it would feel to relinquish it after all this time, to give up her managerial role at Tyson’s Shoes and return all decision-making to the factory’s owner. Even the small business of making army boots she herself had started, successful though it undoubtedly was, had been swallowed up by Tyson’s during the war years, the two merged into one since that had been the best way to deal with things.

  She still had a few little plans for the business buzzing at the back of her mind. Well, not so little, as a matter of fact. One in particular that she’d been toying with for some time.

  Oh, but if Eliot didn’t approve, she’d give it up, and gladly. She really wouldn’t object to being totally free from all responsibility. Kate could then devote her time simply to being a wife and making Eliot happy. She ached to hold him in her arms again, to love him.

  Besides, she would not be alone in this change of circumstance. Since the Great War had ended, those women fortunate enough to have their menfolk returned to them - women who had worked not only in Tyson’s Kendal shoe factory but had kept the local transport running, farmed the land, produced the weapons and equipment to keep their men at the front, all working at tasks women had never before tackled - must now learn to take a back seat, to be content once more with being wives and mothers.

  Dragging her mind back from the years of war work, she focused instead upon the present and the question Aunt Vera was asking.

  ‘Does she know? Is Lucy aware that Eliot arrives home today?’

  ‘I wouldn’t know.’

  ‘Someone, one of her friends perhaps, might have mentioned it.’

  ‘Oh, indeed,’ agreed Aunt Cissie, ever her sister’s echo. ‘You must be prepared for her to call, Kate.’

  Vera continued, ‘Sooner or later she will want to see him. He is her brother-in-law after all. If nothing else, she will wish to ensure that her allowance will continue, and may then give her version of – of events. Have you considered that?’

  ‘I’ve no wish to consider Lucy at all, and certainly not today, Aunt.’

  ‘Of course not, but I felt I should mention it - warn you. She is so jealous of you that she will want to put her case. How will you cope when she does call?’

  Cissie’s eyes grew round with sympathy. ‘Oh, my dear, yes. How will you cope?’

  ‘I shall not receive her. Why should I?’

  ‘Have you told Eliot yet about what she did – or ra
ther what we believe she did? What she is alleged to have done?’

  Still that faint doubt, despite everything they’d palpably suffered at Lucy’s hands.

  Before Kate had time to frame an answer, if indeed there was one to give, the house echoed with the rattle and clang of the front door bell.

  Kate was on her feet in a second. ‘There he is! He’s here at last, I know it.’

  She was running through the hall, anxious to reach the door before Ida or Mrs Petty go there before her. The bell was impatiently ringing a second time even as she flung the door open and, like a miracle, there he stood, his lovely, handsome face wreathed in smiles. Kate stepped forward, ready to fling herself into her husband’s arms, and then she saw that he was not alone.

  ‘Look who I found waiting for me at the station,’ Eliot said. ‘Lucy. Just as well since I must have missed you. Couldn’t spot you anywhere.’

  Chapter Twelve

  She had let him down. The reunion Kate had dreamed of for so long had all gone terribly wrong. Far more wrong than even Eliot appreciated. It was true that the minute they were alone, in their bedroom, he eagerly took her in his arms and kissed her with all the passion, all the love, she could wish for. Desire flared in her, as hot and strong as ever, but the hurt was there too, like a burr beneath the skin.

  ‘Where did you go? Why didn’t you wait?’ she demanded, between kisses.

  ‘More to the point, where were you, my darling? Did you forget I was arriving home today?’

  He pulled her close and when she could catch her breath again, Kate pushed him gently away to frown at him with mock severity. ‘How could I forget when I’ve been longing for this day for weeks … months? What a thing to say! Haven’t we been up since dawn getting ready? Mrs Petty has been cooking and baking for days. I do hope you’re hungry?’

  ‘Not terribly. Lucy insisted on buying me lunch.’

 

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