A Different Kind of Love

by A Different Kind of Love (retail) (epub)

  ‘Is he?’ Unruffled, Bert made no move but continued to quaff his wine calmly, a look of appreciation on his pocked jowls. He showed no perturbation at all when the major came in, though he did condescend to rise, glass in hand.

  ‘Ah, good man, Spaven, I see you’ve chosen well!’ Major Herron took a glass of wine himself and exhorted his servants cheerfully. ‘Come now, everyone, don’t hang back.’

  Realizing now that it was the major who had authorized this celebratory drink, Beata and the rest of the staff turned smiles of accusation on the butler for his little joke, then were quick to accept the master’s invitation, thenceforth to hear his speech.

  ‘Now, everyone, I have the greatest pleasure in announcing that the nation has been victorious against the forces of Bolshevism. After all the bitterness, hatred and uncharitableness of the last nine days – all of it due to Socialism make no mistake about that – the TUC has been forced to capitulate and their members crawl back to work with their tails between their legs. So I would like you please to raise your glasses and toast the nation’s victory over the Bolsheviks. To justice!’

  Everyone raised their glasses in unison. ‘Justice!’

  ‘Beg your pardon, Major sir, but does this mean Beata and Lucy will be able to have their holiday?’ Jack thoughtfully asked on their behalf.

  Beata smiled at him gratefully.

  Major Herron flicked red wine from his silvery moustache. ‘The railwaymen are still out, I’m afraid, along with the printers and, of course, the dratted miners – I sincerely hope their employers refuse to take them back.’ Then, seeing Beata’s woebegone face, he smiled encouragement. ‘But I’m certain they’ll see sense. Even if they do not, after such a show of patriotism in helping to keep the country moving, especially in your own free time, you can be assured of your holiday. If the railway timetable remains disrupted then Lister shall drive you to Scarborough.’

  ‘Why, that’s very kind of you, sir!’ Lucy grinned widely at her friend who voiced agreement.

  Then, even more pleased at this marvellous announcement, Beata hid her smile in her glass, praising this ill wind that had fanned the spark of romance.

  25

  Undergoing a complete reversal of attitude, Beata prayed fervently that the strikers might hold out so that Jack would have to drive her all the way to Scarborough, for she had come to want nothing so much as his companionship. Typically, the opposite occurred. Two days after the major’s utterance the railway strike ended, bringing with it the prospect of a Whitsun holiday for all, but leaving Beata somewhat downcast as she was forced to wave goodbye to Jack at the station.

  ‘Well, cheer up, Beat, you’d think you were off to a funeral!’ teased Lucy at the crestfallen visage.

  Instantly brightening, Beata chuckled to correct the impression that she was not looking forward to the holiday. Indeed, she went on to thoroughly enjoy it. But wonderful though it undoubtedly was, in between all the donkey rides and shell-collecting, paddling in the ice-cold waves, the amusements and swingboats, she could not prevent her mind from wandering to the man she hoped soon to call her lover.

  It was just plain daft, she told herself on the return train journey. The first proper holiday she had ever enjoyed and the overriding thought was of how glad she was to be going home! All that work, cooking and cleaning … but of course it was not the thought of this that made her heart sing.

  It was to sing even more joyfully at the sight of Jack waiting on the platform. Struggling from the carriage with her suitcase, Beata turned quickly to her companion, her face a ray of sunshine. ‘How did he know what train we’d be getting?’

  Lucy instantly detected a change in Beata, understood now the cause of all those faraway looks during the holiday. But though she smiled she made no comment on this, explaining casually, ‘I told Mother and Father in that postcard I sent them, but I only mentioned we’d be back around midday.’ It was one thirty now. ‘He must have been waiting here ages.’

  The somewhat irritated look on the chauffeur’s face showed that this was correct, though it was rapidly converted to a grin the moment he saw Beata alighting from the train and he rushed to assist. ‘Here you are, the pair of you! I thought you’d got ambushed. Give us those cases.’

  Lucy explained that they had wanted to eke out the last hours of their holiday, they wouldn’t be getting another for a whole year. ‘We didn’t expect you to be here for us.’

  ‘Nay, I couldn’t have you struggling on the bus with all this lot – Good Lord, what have you got in them, the hotel silver?’ Jack’s address was for both girls but his attention was mainly on Beata, Lucy noticed, as he hefted the cases from the draughty echoing platform to the waiting Daimler.

  ‘Major won’t be cross, will he?’

  Jack dismissed his sister’s worry. ‘No, it was his idea.’ The luggage stowed and his arms free, he wound one round each young woman. ‘By, I haven’t half missed my lasses!’

  Imagining that the affectionate squeeze was for her alone, Beata’s heart swelled with love.

  Privy to this touching scene, Lucy smiled fondly as her brother opened the car door for them, wondering how she could help the romance along.

  On the way home there were still signs of great distress and unemployment, groups of down-at-heel men at every turn. It was such a depressing sight after their fun-filled week that Lucy urged Beata to tell Jack about their holiday to take her mind off it.

  Needing no encouragement, Beata rattled on so much about Scarborough that Jack laughed and said over his shoulder, ‘Correct me if I’m wrong, Beat, but I get the impression that this has given you a taste for travel.’

  ‘Ooh, yes, I’ve always wanted to go to different places. I’d love to go further afield – if I wasn’t in service, that is.’

  ‘Aye, you’d certainly need plenty of money to do that – or get yourself a rich husband.’

  Beata smiled enigmatically and looked out of the window, wondering whether this was a test. ‘If I had a husband I wouldn’t care about travel. It wouldn’t matter if he were rich or poor either.’

  ‘So if you were thinking of asking her, there’s your opening, Jack.’

  ‘Lucy!’ An embarrassed Beata dealt her friend a sharp nudge.

  ‘Well! I don’t believe in beating around the bush. It’d be lovely if you two did marry, then we’d really be sisters, at least sisters-in-law.’

  Face burning, hardly daring to look at Jack for fear that everything was spoiled by Lucy’s interference, Beata finally chanced a swift peek as the car headed out of the city. To her utter joy he was grinning.

  * * *

  If Beata had hoped that this was the start of a wonderful romance then she was to be disappointed. Obvious though it was that Jack had acquired new interest in her, he was sadly lacking in the ways of the world and his courtship of her was not to extend to anything other than fleeting smiles as they went about their work. Assuming that it was because there was always someone else about, Beata initially expected him to make his move when he took her to church in the car, but no. Though he was assiduous in listening to everything she had to say and his responses were definitely more animated, warmer, they revealed not one hint of intimacy, the discourse between them remaining mundane.

  But if this was all that was on offer Beata was content for the moment to survive on fantasy, picturing herself married to this dark good-looking man, perhaps in a cottage down the lane that she so admired, for he would probably want to keep working for Major Herron and consequently would need to live close by. Or if he did not mind changing his place of work they could set up somewhere else, he as chauffeur and she as cook, until children came along. Thus was she happy to make do, for it could be that he was merely biding his time until she reached sixteen. The suspense was almost unbearable.

  Awaking to her sixteenth birthday, sunlight flooding the austere room, Beata stretched her arms above her head, raked the sleep from her eyes, then wriggled back into the mattress to spend a few mo
ments in delicious anticipation, envisaging the change that today would bring to her life. Jack was fully aware of this important milestone for she had mentioned it when she had gone for tea at the lodge last week. Also last week had come an invitation from Aunt Ethel; she had arranged, for this afternoon, a reunion of the Kilmaster siblings, who would congregate at her house. That it was also Beata’s birthday was merely happy coincidence. Happy? Well, yes, it would be lovely to see them – but she would much rather be spending her time with Jack.

  Finally rising, she washed and put on her maid’s attire and went down, attending first to the fire and all her cleaning jobs, then taking cups of tea to her superiors still in bed. She returned to the kitchen expectant of Jack’s arrival for work, but her state of excitement was rather deflated when he was nowhere to be seen. Moreover, Lucy who would normally be collecting the boots for cleaning at this hour was instead seated at the table weeping over a newspaper.

  Beata stared aghast at her friend’s tears, envisaging some awful disaster in the Lister household. She looked at one of the other maids for explanation.

  Eyes still puffy from sleep, May shrugged. ‘She just took one look at that and started blubbing.’

  Sniffing, Lucy glanced up, dabbed her eyes and gushed, ‘Oh, Beat, haven’t you heard? Rudi’s died!’ She pointed to the article.

  Beata leaned over her friend and just had time to read of Valentino’s death before Percy grabbed the paper from under Lucy’s nose. ‘Don’t be getting snot all over that before the master’s read it!’

  ‘Heartless!’ A tearful Lucy berated the footman, then blew into her handkerchief. ‘Can I have it back later? I’d like to cut that out.’ Crimson of nose and eye, she looked set to burst into tears again. ‘Aw, what a shock.’

  Vastly relieved that it was so trivial, Beata pressed small comforting hands to her friend’s shoulders. ‘Eh, and you so keen to marry him.’

  Lucy was forced to blurt a tearful laugh.

  Beata chuckled and dealt Lucy’s shoulders a squeeze to show she understood, before moving away to begin work. ‘It is sad, though. He wasn’t that old. What happened?’

  Going about her own work, Lucy said it had been peritonitis. ‘Oh, here’s me full of my own woes – happy birthday, Beat!’

  Jack came in at that point and, overhearing, announced offhandedly, ‘Oh aye, many happy returns, Beat.’

  At his entry Beata had spun in anticipation but to her huge disappointment he was not overly attentive, perhaps even less so than usual.

  Nevertheless, she thanked everyone for their wishes, then launched herself into the day’s tasks.

  ‘I’ve got a little present for you,’ revealed Lucy, ‘but I’ve gone and left it at home. I’ll fetch it this afternoon.’

  Beata reminded her. ‘I won’t be here.’

  The reply was casual. ‘Oh, that’s right, you’re going to your aunty’s. Well, have a nice time.’

  Cook was last downstairs, she too wishing the kitchenmaid many happy returns. ‘When will you be home?’

  Beata had started to get the breakfast pots ready. ‘I’m not sure, Mrs Temple, not late.’

  ‘Can you be more specific? The major’s got dinner guests tonight.’

  Beata frowned. ‘Oh, I hadn’t heard of it. As I’m going over to Leeds I’ve arranged to take my afternoon and evening together – I did ask permission.’

  ‘I had hoped for a bit of help, but if you don’t feel up to it…’ Mrs Temple looked slightly peeved.

  Beata thought it harsh of Cook to accuse her of letting the side down, and also a bit much to expect her to come back early on her evening off, especially as it was her birthday, but as usual she fell into line. ‘I’ll make sure I’m back by seven-thirty.’

  ‘Good lass.’ Mrs Temple dispensed a satisfied nod. ‘I knew you wouldn’t let me down. Have a good time.’

  * * *

  Aunt Ethel’s old-fashioned parlour, with its dark brown paint and oppressive wallpaper, was somewhat overcrowded with Gussie and Mims, Maddie, Joe and Duke all turning up for the reunion, plus the cousins, aunts and uncles who had accompanied them, but Beata enjoyed her afternoon as she passed amongst them, catching up on all their news and receiving birthday wishes.

  At the gawky stage between child and woman, eleven-year-old Mims had acquired a more pleasant nature to match her pretty face, telling Beata she enjoyed her education and had lots of friends. The cousin with whom Mims lived confirmed that she was very popular.

  ‘You must be eating your crusts these days,’ teased Beata, examining Mims’ wavy light brown hair and privately thinking how like Mother’s it was. ‘I feel rather lost without them up my knicker leg. I sometimes think I might shove a few up there for old times’ sake.’

  Mims chortled heartily, then divulged in magnanimous tone, ‘I eat me peas an’ all. Well, Aunt Merry’s so kind I don’t like to upset her.’

  It was Madeleine to whom Beata spoke next. Her coffers replenished by the stint in domestic service, Maddie’s ambition to train as a nurse now seemed to be progressing well. Beata dutifully listened, but it was not very long before Maddie was rubbing her up the wrong way and she moved on as soon as she was able.

  Hearing that Joe was still employed in the clerical job that his aunt and uncle had acquired for him, she was surprised, for he would soon be nineteen and was quite the man in his tweed jacket and flannels, dwarfing her as he rose to enjoy a smoke by the open window. ‘I expected to see you in army uniform by now.’

  Alarmed, Joe shushed her but their stern grey-haired aunt overheard as she came past with a tray of tea. ‘I didn’t adopt Joseph in order for him to waste his life. He’s very well thought of where he works. He’ll no doubt be manager one day.’

  Beata gave him an admiring glance.

  Joe smiled for old Aunt Ethel, but the moment she had turned away he bent to whisper despairingly to his sister, ‘It’s not what I want but I can’t go against her after all she’s done for me.’

  Feigning to be deaf as she moved around with her tray, Ethel enjoyed a feeling of satisfaction that her plan had worked. Remembering how stubborn Probyn had been, she knew it was useless to forbid his son to join the army, he would only have run away; instead she had employed emotional blackmail to keep Joe from error, showering him with opportunity, telling him how dear he was to her and how much store she set on his future. It appeared to have worked.

  She paused in front of Duke, who took a cup from her tray. This one, however, had been another matter. What a strange boy he was. For the first year in his new home he had dutifully gone to school, but thenceforth had taken to wandering off for days on end. Unable to fathom his motives, and finding him a bit of a handful, Ethel had approached her sisters for help and when Wyn had volunteered to take him off her hands she had gladly accepted. It had been rather a surprise actually, for Wyn had never been as charitable as her siblings. Now retired to Southport, she and husband Teddy had motored up for the weekend, bringing their adopted son with them.

  Feeling awkward under Ethel’s scrutiny, Duke thanked her for the tea and, cradling his cup and saucer, wandered over to stand in the bay window alongside Joe, Beata and Mims.

  ‘So, you’re living with Aunt Wyn now,’ observed Beata.

  ‘Aye, and now I know why she was so keen to have me,’ muttered Duke, who at thirteen was able to work for his keep. ‘Her and Uncle Ted just want somebody to do all the mucky jobs.’ Wyn and her husband had acquired a bungalow with enough land for them to keep geese and hens. ‘She doesn’t like the geese shitting in the garden, so she has me get up at the crack of dawn and herd them down to the pond, then I have to collect all t’eggs before I go to school and when I come home I have to fetch t’geese back again, not to mention all the other jobs.’

  His sisters sympathized, then Beata cocked her ear as she detected murmurings amongst the adults about Clem: ‘He’s still with her; living at Sprotbrough, by all accounts, bold as brass.’

  She exchanged looks wi
th her siblings. ‘It’d be nice if Clem were here, wouldn’t it?’

  Duke was non-committal, staring into the distance at bad memories. Joe too remained silent.

  Only Mims nodded. ‘And Lionel – but not her.'

  ‘No, not her,’ murmured Beata, and sipped thoughtfully from her cup.

  After tea, Mims played the piano for them. Since moving in with Aunt Merry she had been allowed access to the keys again and had improved to such a degree that she could recreate any piece that was put before her. Listening enviously, Beata determined to have tuition herself as soon as her financial circumstances would allow.

  Overconfident from the praise, for her next rendition the eleven-year-old launched into a lively jazz tune but was quickly stalled by Aunt Ethel, whose voice rose above the din. ‘Thank you, Millicent! I think we’ll stick to white man’s music, if you please.’ And the tempo was deftly altered to fit ‘Yes We Have No Bananas’, which everyone joined in singing.

  The recital ended with a birthday song, then Aunt Merry produced a box Brownie saying they must have a photo to mark the occasion, and everyone teemed out into the late afternoon sunshine, meandering up the sloping street to pose on the bridge that overlooked it. Thankful for Augusta’s help with the tea, Aunt Ethel draped her own fox fur around the young woman’s neck so that she might be smarter for the portrait.

  Several shots were captured, then, noting the lengthening shadows, Beata said reluctantly. ‘I’ll have to go soon.’

  Uncle Christmas gave a teasing nudge. ‘Leaving already? She must have a sweetheart hidden away somewhere.’

  Feeling a little despondent over Jack’s lack of attention this morning, Beata blushed. Her uncle did not know how close he was. But she could quite truthfully attribute her rapid departure to another. ‘Cook needs me to help. She’s got a dinner party.’

  ‘What, on your birthday?’ exclaimed Aunt Merry, sharing a look of incredulity with the others. ‘How mean can you get?’