‘Mother, please.’ Morry’s face reddened as he protested.
‘You know me, Morry. I always speak my mind. And Kathy should know that by now.’
‘I wouldn’t ever do that, Mrs Robinson. Not to anyone, and certainly not to Morry.’
Betty nodded, her chins wobbling as she patted Kathy’s hand again. ‘I know, I know. Morry will find the right girl one day. We all wish it could be you, but like I say, if it’s not to be, then it’s not to be.’
Now it was Morry who, still red-faced, cast a look of apology towards Kathy.
Ted, tired of all the romantic nonsense, changed the subject to one of practicalities. ‘Where do you plan to go, lass?’
‘Lincoln.’
They all stared at her for a moment and then, almost as if given a cue, they all laughed and relaxed.
‘Lincoln. Why, that’s nowt. Only a stone’s throw away, lass. Ya not really leaving us at all. I thought you meant you were off to Lunnan or somewhere. Oh, that’s all right then.’
Amy clapped her hands. ‘I’ll be able to come and stay with you and we can go out on the town . . .’
‘Now, now, steady on, Amy. You hold your horses a bit,’ Betty said. She turned to Kathy. ‘Have you got somewhere to go to in Lincoln?’
Kathy shook her head. ‘No. But I’ve got a little money saved up. Though how I’ve done it I don’t know myself, since Dad never paid me a proper wage.’ The unfairness of her life was a bitter taste in her mouth and, despite her anxiety over her mother, hardened her resolve.
She was doing the right thing. She was sure she was.
Betty glanced at her husband and voiced her thoughts aloud. ‘D’you think your sister would put her up for a bit? Just till she finds her feet?’
Ted blinked. ‘Jemima? Ah, well now, I don’t know about that. Not the sort of place you’d want a young lass staying.’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Betty was smiling mischievously. ‘Might do your Jemima the world of good to have a bright young thing like Kathy about the place. Might liven her up a bit.’
Amy was giggling uncontrollably and even Morry was smiling. Only Ted looked unsure as he glanced at Kathy. He cleared his throat. ‘My sister is a spinster and lives alone in a little terraced house with just her cat for company. She does work, though. In one of the big stores in Lincoln. She – er – never married. She – er . . .’
‘Such a shame,’ Betty murmured as husband and wife exchanged a glance and Betty gave a tiny shake of her head. Ted fell silent, but Kathy had the distinct feeling that there was more to Aunt Jemima’s story than either of them were telling.
‘You can’t send her there,’ Amy spluttered. ‘She’ll have to be in bed by half past nine every night and she won’t be allowed any “followers”. How’s Kathy ever to meet anyone? Make friends?’
‘Well, like I say, it’s only till she finds her feet,’ Betty answered. ‘Till she gets a job and can afford a place of her own. Then she can find a nice little bed-sit somewhere.’
Amy clapped her hands again. ‘And I can go and stay. What fun we’ll have, Kathy.’
‘Now, take your things upstairs. Amy’ll show you the spare room,’ Betty said, rising from the table. ‘You stay here the night and Morry can drive you into Lincoln in the morning. I’ll come with you and talk to Jemima. All right?’
Kathy nodded. ‘You’re – you’re very kind.’
‘Think nothing of it, cariad. That’s what friends are for.’
Ted stood up too and, as Kathy rose to follow Amy, she heard him say softly to his wife. ‘I’ve a mind to slip across to Jim’s and see how things are.’
‘Leave it for tonight, Jim,’ Betty whispered back. ‘You might make things worse. Let’s get her safely out the way and then you can go and see how poor Edith is.’
Kathy picked up her suitcase. The overheard conversation had eased her conscience and lightened her concern. The Robinsons would keep an eye on her mother, and now that she was to move in with a relative of theirs, Kathy would be able to hear if things were all right. The knowledge comforted her and assuaged her guilt – if only a little.
Kathy lay awake half the night, going over and over in her mind the events that had led up to the drastic action she’d taken. She lay in the Robinsons’ spare bed, tense and anxious, expecting at any moment to hear a loud banging on their back door. She couldn’t imagine that her father would let her go easily. For one thing, he would have to pay someone to do the work on the farm she did for nothing. And that was the last thing he would do. At any moment she expected him to arrive at the Robinsons’ to drag her back, by her hair if necessary.
Then another thought struck her. Perhaps he hadn’t realized she’d gone. She’d crept quietly out of the house while he was asleep in the battered armchair near the range.
Only Kathy’s mother had seen her go, had held her close for a few brief moments and then given her a gentle push towards the door. ‘Go now. Quickly – before he wakes up,’ Edith had whispered urgently.
But nothing disturbed the stillness of the frosty night; the only sound was Ted Robinson’s noisy snoring in the next room. If her father did know, it was obvious now that he wasn’t going to chase after her. No doubt he thought she would come back of her own accord like a whipped dog, contrite and begging forgiveness.
‘Fat chance,’ Kathy murmured aloud in the darkness. She turned over and, at last, fell asleep.
Four
‘Good heavens! Whatever brings you to my door this early on a Monday morning? Is something wrong, Betty? Is it Edward?’
Kathy hid her smile at hearing the use of Ted Robinson’s full and formal Christian name.
‘No, no, Jemima cariad. We’re fine. But we’re early because we wanted to catch you before you went to work.’
‘Come in, do. You’re welcome any time of the day, Betty. It’s good to see you.’ As the tall, thin woman ushered them into the tiny terraced house, she was still firing questions. ‘How is Edward? And Amy? Is my goddaughter behaving herself? Hello, Maurice, my dear boy, how nice to see you.’ She proffered her gaunt cheek for Morry’s dutiful kiss.
Then she turned her sharp grey eyes on Kathy. ‘And who is this?’
‘Kathy. Kathy Burton.’
Strangely, the grey eyes showed no surprise, not even when they glanced down briefly and took in the suitcase. ‘Jim Burton’s girl?’
When Betty nodded, Jemima’s only reply was a swift nod and a soft, ‘Ah.’
It seemed the woman understood without another word of explanation, for she led the way from the back door through the scullery and into the living kitchen. Remains of her half-eaten breakfast lay on the table set against the wall, but she made no effort to return to it, saying instead, ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘We mustn’t keep you, Jemima. You’ll be wanting to get to work.’
Jemima glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece above the range that took up the centre of one wall. ‘I’ve never been late in all the twenty years I’ve worked there,’ she said. ‘I don’t think they’re going to dismiss me for being a few minutes late this morning. Besides, Mr Kendall is a very understanding young man.’ She paused, sniffed, and seemed lost for a brief moment in her own thoughts. ‘Poor young feller has to be,’ she murmured. Then she shook herself and was brisk and businesslike once more. ‘Sit down, sit down all of you. Maurice, my dear, fetch another chair from the front room. And then you can tell me what this is about – though I think I can guess.’
When they were all seated, Jemima sat down too, crossing her ankles neatly and folding her hands in her lap. She was dressed ready for work in a smart, navy blue two-piece costume that accentuated her slim figure. Her hair, once a bright auburn but now showing signs of grey here and there, was swept back from her face into a plaited coil at the nape of her neck, the plain style emphasizing the thinness of her face. Kathy guessed the woman must be in her late forties – like her brother and sister-in-law – but she looked older. There were tiny lines
around her eyes and her mouth, but when she turned her clear, green eyes on Kathy and smiled, the severity left her face and Kathy could glimpse the pretty girl this woman must once have been.
‘Now, my dear,’ Jemima’s tone was surprisingly kind. ‘Leaving home, are you?’
Kathy could not prevent a little gasp of surprise and she glanced at Betty, who nodded encouragingly. ‘Tell Aunt Jemima – I mean, Miss Robinson—’
Jemima waved her hand and said, ‘Oh, “Aunt Jemima” will do fine. I’m sure we can make room for an adopted niece.’ Her smile widened and her eyes actually twinkled for a brief moment. ‘I’m sure the names the girls at work call me are far less polite.’
Kathy cleared her throat, suddenly nervous. Miss Robinson – Aunt Jemima – seemed kindly enough. There had been no note of disapproval in her tone, yet there was none of approval either. It had been a statement of fact that gave Kathy no real encouragement.
‘Yes, I – er – um – I want to come and live in the city. Find a job. Stand on my own feet.’
Jemima’s disconcerting gaze eyed her steadily. ‘Why?’
Kathy swallowed and gnawed at her lower lip. Then the words came in a rush, as if she could contain herself no longer. ‘Because – because I can’t stand it at home any more. My father treats me like a servant. I get my keep, as he calls it, but no wage . . .’ Now she met Jemima’s gaze steadily. ‘I want to stand on my own two feet. I want to see a bit of life.’
‘I see,’ Jemima said quietly. Slowly, the older woman turned her head towards her sister-in-law as she said softly, ‘It could be me thirty years ago, Betty, couldn’t it?’
Betty nodded. ‘Yes, but things are worse for Kathy, Jemima. Your dad was strict, yes, but he was never cruel.’ She nodded towards Kathy. ‘See that black eye she’s getting? He did that to her. Now your dad never hit you. Not that I know of, anyway.’
Jemima closed her eyes for a moment, as if lost in the past. When she opened them she sighed and murmured, ‘Only the once, Betty, only the once, but maybe he had good reason, eh?’
Betty stared at her sister-in-law, but said nothing. Kathy looked at Morry, but he was studiously avoiding her glance. She guessed he knew what the two women were talking about, but no one was going to reveal a long-held family secret to her. Not even Morry.
Briskly now, Jemima turned back to Kathy. ‘I know your father of old, my dear. Being neighbours, Edward and I, and your father, were all young together. I always thought him a cold fish even then and pitied any woman who was foolish enough to marry him. He came acourting me once, but I sent him packing, I can tell you.’ Her eyes sparkled suddenly with mischief but then, almost as suddenly as it had appeared, the twinkle was gone. ‘But your poor mother.’ Jemima sighed. ‘I expect she was taken in by the thought of a young man owning his own farm.’ She gave a quick nod. ‘And, yes, it could have been a good life for any girl. Look at Betty here – I don’t think she’d change her life with the Queen of England . . .’
Betty nodded and smiled her agreement.
‘And your father can be very charming,’ Jemima went on. ‘When he wants to be!’
Kathy was on the point of arguing. She had never seen any ‘charm’ in her father, but then she stopped as she remembered how Jim always greeted Morry when he came to the farm. Oh yes, Jim Burton’s attitude could be very different when he wanted something from someone.
‘But I expect your poor mother rues the day she met Jim Burton,’ Jemima added grimly.
For a moment – a very brief moment – Kathy almost felt moved to defend her father. Jemima’s bluntness was almost rude. But the words she might have spoken died on her lips. What Jemima Robinson was saying was absolutely true. Harsh though her words were, there was no denying the truth in them.
‘So, you want somewhere to stay in Lincoln, I take it?’
‘Only temporary, Jemima, just till she finds a job and can afford a place of her own. A little bed-sit or – or something,’ Betty finished lamely. She knew nothing of city life and couldn’t imagine anything worse than being cooped up in a tiny room in a little house in a row of houses with street after street just the same. Give her the wide open spaces of the countryside any day. Sandy Furze Farm and the tiny village of Abbeytoft were all Betty needed or wanted. But, though she couldn’t understand it herself, she could see that the lure of the busy streets and the bright lights were perhaps what the lonely Kathy Burton needed. She just hoped her Amy wouldn’t want to follow her friend.
‘You’re very welcome to stay – for a short while,’ Jemima said bluntly. ‘But you’ll have to try to fit in with me and my funny little ways. Taffy – that’s my cat – and I like our routine.’
‘Of course,’ Kathy said at once. ‘Just tell me what you want me to do and . . .’
‘Oh, I will, make no mistake about that.’ Jemima’s gaze scrutinized the girl once more. ‘And I might be able to help you find a job. There’s a vacancy at the department store where I work. I’ll talk to Miss Curtis – the head of the department – and to Mr Kendall.’
‘Oh, thank you. That’s – that’s very kind of you.’
‘Kindness has nothing to do with it,’ Jemima said, standing up as if giving a signal that it was time for Betty and Morry to leave and for her to go to work. ‘The sooner you have a job and can earn your own living, the sooner Taffy and I will have our house back to ourselves.’
Kathy wasn’t sure but she thought she saw – just briefly – the fleeting sparkle of mischief in Jemima’s eyes.
Her first encounter with the other occupant of the terraced house was more frightening than meeting Aunt Jemima.
Taffy was a long-haired ginger tom, who padded silently about the house on huge white-tipped paws and glared balefully at the newcomer invading his territory. Their first confrontation happened in the scullery.
Aunt Jemima, having shown her to the tiny spare bedroom and given her a key for the back door, had left for work. Betty and Morry had gone and now Kathy was alone in the house and wondering what she should do. After being used to working from dawn to dusk – and sometimes beyond – she didn’t know how to handle the hours that stretched emptily before her.
Perhaps I should go into the city myself and see if I can find work, she mused. But she didn’t want to offend Aunt Jemima, who had promised to enquire about the vacancy at the large department store where she worked. So Kathy looked around the neat house to see if there was anything that needed doing. Then she spotted the breakfast things still left on the table. She carried the used crockery into the scullery to wash it. Standing at the deep white sink, she heard a snuffling and turned towards the round basket in the corner. The cat was stretching and yawning, showing sharp, white teeth and even sharper claws.
‘Hello, boy. You must be Taffy. My, you’re a beauty, aren’t you?’ Kathy squatted and held out her hand towards the cat, but he arched his back, his fur bristling, and spat at her. As his paw flicked out towards her, Kathy quickly pulled back her hand, narrowly missing receiving a deep scratch. ‘That’s not a very nice welcome, I must say. Mind you, I am a stranger in your home, so you’ve every right.’
His green eyes sparked anger and he hissed at her again.
‘I’m not going to hurt you,’ she carried on, talking in a soft soothing tone, but she made no attempt to touch the animal again. ‘I’ve just come to stay here for a while.’ She stood up and turned back to the sink, half expecting that at any moment she might feel those vicious claws raking the back of her leg.
After a moment, she risked a glance over her shoulder. The cat’s bright green gaze was weighing her up, it seemed. Kathy tried again. ‘I wonder how you get in and out while your mistress is out all day.’ She looked around. At the bottom of the back door there was a hole cut in the woodwork and covering it was a metal-hinged flap that swung backwards and forwards. ‘Oh, how clever,’ she murmured.
Then she saw that the cat’s bowls – one for milk and one for food – were filled. ‘Seems you don’t ne
ed my help,’ she said as she dried the last plate and stowed it away in the cupboard.
She turned and went back into the kitchen and sat down in an easy chair near the range. Beside the chair and set in the alcove near the range was a shelf of books. Kathy leaned forward and perused the titles, smiling as she saw one of her favourite books there. Pride and Prejudice. In her last year at school the class had begun to read it, but she’d been forced by her father to leave school as soon as she was old enough. She’d never had the chance to finish the story. There were few books around at Thorpe Farm. Her father considered them a waste of time.
‘Filling your head with such nonsense,’ had been his view if he ever caught her reading. ‘You’d be better doing something useful.’ And by the time she climbed the stairs at night to her bedroom – the only place where she had any privacy – she was usually so dog-tired that her eyelids drooped before she’d read even half a page.
But now she’d time to spare. Carefully, she pulled the book from the shelf and opened it, her heart beating with a sudden excitement. She could read to her heart’s content. There was no one to stop her. From this moment on, she could do exactly what she pleased with her life.
As she turned to the first page, the door into the scullery was pushed wider open and Taffy walked into the room. Kathy glanced up, watching him. He stood a moment, his green eyes staring at her. Then, with the easy grace of a big cat in the wild, he padded towards her, his gaze still holding hers. He sat down before her, still looking up at her, still assessing her. She could no longer read his expression; he was no longer spitting but neither did friendliness shine in his green eyes.
‘Ah,’ Kathy said aloud. ‘Am I sitting in your mistress’s chair? Is that it?’ She smiled. Did she imagine it or did the green eyes soften just a little? Without warning, the cat lifted his front paw, balanced himself for a moment on his hind legs and then launched himself towards her, landing on her lap and sending the book slithering to the floor. His face close to hers for a moment, her stared at her again. Kathy, pressing herself back into the chair, stared back. Then Taffy broke the gaze and turned three times in a tight circle, kneading her lap with his white-tipped paws. Kathy held her breath, waiting. At last he lay down with the curve of his spine towards her and began to wash his foreleg. To her amazement, Kathy heard the deep-throated rumble of a contented purr. Tentatively she touched the cat’s head and was rewarded by him pressing against her stroking fingers and purring even louder.
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