‘I say that’s a lovely idea, Maisie,’ Beth replied. She had her own reasons for wanting a quiet chat before the youngsters came home. And this time, she didn’t intend to let her friend dodge the issue. Wedging herself deeper into the comfortable old rocking chair, she followed Maisie’s movements as that busy little body went back and forth… filling the huge black kettle from the tap above the old pot-sink, then going with it to the firegrate, where she wedged it firmly into the glowing coals. Now she was reaching into the pine dresser and taking out two small pot mugs which she brought to the big square table, where the sugar bowl, milk jug and brown teapot were already prepared. And standing beside them was a plate of home-made apple macs.
The dresser and table were much too big for the scullery, but it was the cosiest and most lived-in room in the house. The only other pieces of furniture were the two big rockers placed one either side of the range, this being Maisie’s pride and joy, and which she kept polished to a smooth black brilliance. At the far end of the scullery the window above the sink looked out over a small paved area which led down to the lavatory. In that same wall were two doors; one opening out to the yard, and the other enclosing the stairway that led up to the two bedrooms. Directly behind Beth was the door to the parlour. She glanced at it now, seeing herself in Mr Miller’s arms when he had carried her through it some two days ago. Flushed with embarrassment, she looked quickly away. ‘Maisie, you still haven’t told me. How much do we owe the doctor?’ It was a source of worry to Beth, for she was well aware that no doctor would make a house-call and attend to a sick patient, without remuneration of some sort. She knew also that Maisie was not fortunate enough to have made provisions for such an emergency.
‘Now, don’t you go worrying yerself about that, lass,’ Maisie told her, fetching the two cups of tea and setting them in the hearth. ‘You’ll eat one o’ me apple macs, won’t yer, darlin’?’ she asked disarmingly, promptly scurrying to the table to collect them. When Beth gratefully declined, she pushed the plate to the far end of the table, ‘Oh, well… I’ll not have one neither,’ she said, momentarily keeping her back to Beth, and secretly hoping she would not pursue the matter of what the doctor was owed; because the plain truth was, the doctor was owed nothing.
‘I want to know, Maisie,’ Beth insisted.
‘Oh, lass, stop your moithering. There weren’t no choice, I tell yer,’ Maisie assured her, turning round to face Beth’s quizzical gaze. ‘If that doctor hadn’t come to attend yer…’ She shook her head in an agitated manner and rolled her eyes upwards, spreading out her hands in a gesture of helplessness. ‘Oh, lass! Yer looked like death… an’ we were that worried.’
Beth’s suspicions were already forming and she did not like the conclusions she was coming to. ‘Who, Maisie?’ she persisted. ‘You said “we” were worried.’
‘Well, me an’ Cissie, o’ course,’ Maisie retorted, her face colouring up.
‘And who else, Maisie?’
‘What d’yer mean, lass?’
‘You know what I mean,’ Beth said in a firm voice.
Maisie laughed with feigned surprise, as though she had only just perceived what was troubling Beth. ‘Oh! You mean Mr Miller the rentman?’ she said with exaggerated innocence. When Beth patiently nodded, she went on anxiously, ‘Well, o’ course, the poor feller were worried! Didn’t he see the state o’ yer? And wasn’t it that poor bugger as carried yer up to the bedroom an’ all, eh? Why, lass! It were only natural that he were worried. He might be the one as holds his hand out for the rent every week, but he ain’t such a bad sort deep down.’ She was rambling on, eager to divert attention from the question which she knew was already shaping itself on Beth’s lips. ‘It’s the old man that’s the real sod. What! That bugger would have us out on the street afore yer could say: “Where’s me hat?” Oh, aye, it’s well known hereabouts how the old man has his stepson under his thumb… rules him with a rod of iron, he does. Never did let the young feller have a life of his own, yer know, lass. ’Course, David Miller’s not so young any more… going on forty, I reckon. An’ thanks to that tyrant Luther Reynolds he’s never had a woman. Ever since his mother died o’ the TB he was roped in as his stepfather’s right-hand man; then when the ol’ feller’s illness kept him from seeing to the many properties he’s acquired over the years, he used his stepson to fetch an’ carry for him. Played on his sympathies, he did… used him worse than a slave. With that old bugger pulling his strings, David Miller ain’t got much to look forward to, an’ that’s a fact. What’s more, I don’t reckon Luther Reynolds is as much of a cripple as he’d have folks believe. She screwed up her face into an expression of disgust. ‘I expect it suits the canny ol’ sod to have folks running round waiting on him!’
‘Maisie!’ Beth’s cry brought her nervous rhetoric to an end. ‘Was it David Miller who summoned the doctor?’ she insisted, having already guessed from Maisie’s frantic attempt to change the subject, that Mr Miller had done more than just carry her up the stairs.
‘Well… yes, lass. He could see yer had urgent need of a doctor. We both could. Oh, Beth! I was so afeared for you and the babby.’
‘And did he… did David Miller… pay for the doctor?’ When Maisie said nothing, but lowered her gaze to the floor, Beth’s worst suspicions were confirmed. She too remained silent for a moment, mentally assessing the situation and wondering why David Miller should put his hand in his own pocket in order to help her. A man she hardly knew, and with whom she had conversed on no more than three or four occasions. A man who only a short while ago had given Maisie notice that they would all be evicted unless the rent was paid sharply. To Beth’s mind, it was a bad thing to be indebted to such a man. ‘I must pay him back, Maisie,’ she said in a serious voice.
‘O’ course, lass,’ Maisie readily agreed. ‘Soon as ever we can… we’ll pay the feller back.’ She came to the fireplace and sat in the rocking chair opposite, regarding Beth with a sorry look and saying, ‘I knew yer wouldn’t like it, lass. But I had no choice, don’t yer see? An’ Mr Miller himself went for the doctor… the very same as attends him an’ his stepfather. To tell yer the truth, lass, I saw another side o’ David Miller altogether. But, like yer say, it ain’t right that we should be beholden to him. An’ we will pay him back, soon as ever we can.’ She leaned forward and took Beth’s hand in her own. ‘Aw, lass, I’m that sorry to have let it happen, but… well, I just didn’t know what else to do.’
‘I know,’ Beth told her with a reassuring smile, ‘and I’m grateful, Maisie, bless your heart. It’s just that I don’t trust him. After all, he did threaten to evict you, didn’t he?’ She paused, her face creased in a frown. ‘I can’t for the life of me understand why he should have summoned his doctor to me, and paid for him too, Maisie,’ she said quietly. ‘I wouldn’t have considered him a compassionate man. Unless, I’ve sadly misjudged him.’ Her own words set her thinking.
‘Aye well, happen…’said Maisie, nodding her head. She made no mention of her own suspicions – that David Miller had an eye for Beth, who with her abundance of rich hair and strong dark eyes was strikingly beautiful, even though she was big with child. But then again, some men liked to see a woman big with child. An’ there was no denying that such women had a special bloom about them – although, in Beth’s case, she was unusually pale and thin of face. Maisie couldn’t help but worry about her. She knew Beth had things on her mind. Things concerning her family, and the baby’s father. Things she had not volunteered to talk about. And, though she would have liked Beth to confide in her, Maisie never asked questions. It was not her way. It was enough for her to know that Beth had left a bad situation behind, and that she was trying to forge a new life for herself. As for the man who had put her in the family way, well… he couldn’t have been much good, or he wouldn’t be letting her face it all on her own. Maisie had strong views on that particular issue, and, without the facts, could only draw her own conclusions. She quietly regarded Beth now, seeing how trouble
d she was, and how deep in thought she had become, and her own heart was sore. Going against her natural instincts, she asked gently, ‘Is there some’at else on yer mind, lass?’
For one weak moment Beth was tempted to confide in Maisie, to talk with her about all that had happened, about the way she had broken her father’s heart and brought him close to death because of her love for Tyler Blacklock; and the way she had been deceived by this man whom she had loved and – God help her – still loved in spite of everything; and how she was desperately unhappy at the thought of her child coming into the world without a father. All of these things she longed to tell Maisie. But she could not. There was still too much shame, too much uncertainty ahead of her. Besides, how could she burden Maisie with such things, when that dear soul had her own troubles? All the same, as she looked up into Maisie’s warm kindly eyes, Beth thought how comforting it would be to share her thoughts, to lay bare all the things that plagued her every waking moment.
‘What is it, lass?’ Maisie had seen the look in Beth’s eyes, the deep-down need to open her heart. ‘Won’t yer let me help yer, eh?’ she asked softly. ‘Yer know what they say… a trouble shared is a trouble halved.’
The conversation between Beth and Maisie might have taken a much deeper turn, but in that moment the door burst open and Cissie came tumbling in, her blue eyes wide and wild. ‘I didn’t do it, Mam!’ she cried fearfully. ‘It weren’t me, honest to God, it weren’t!’ When she saw Beth in the chair she screeched with excitement. ‘Beth! Oh, Beth, you’re better… you’re better!’ She launched herself at Beth who grabbed her with wide-open arms and hugged her close, the two of them rocking back and forth, laughing out loud, the special love they had for each other lighting their faces.
‘Hey! Give over, our Cissie,’ cried Maisie, clutching the girl’s arm and drawing her away. ‘An’ you should have more sense, Beth Ward!’ she chastised. ‘Poor little mite… squashed atween the two of yer.’ She pointed to Beth’s swollen belly. ‘An’ you just out o’ yer sick-bed an’ all.’ Turning her attention full on Cissie, she demanded to know, ‘What were that yer screamed when yer burst through yon door? What’s all this about, my girl? What is it you “aint done”, eh? What mischief you been up to now, for Gawd’s sake?’
‘Nothing. I ain’t been up to no mischief at all, Mam,’ Cissie retorted, but there was something in her voice that told Maisie otherwise.
‘I’ll be the judge o’ that,’ Maisie chipped in. ‘I asked yer once an’ I’ll ask yer agin… what’s all this about?’
‘It’s that miserable man who sells chocolates on the Railway Station. He said I pinched some’at off his counter. He says he’s sending the bobbies after me. He’s a liar, Mam. He’s allus looking for trouble. Nobody likes him…’ She was gabbling now, growing agitated. When the sharp insistent knock on the front door echoed through the house, she clamped her hand over her mouth, her whole body stiff and her blue eyes stretched wide as she stared up at Maisie.
‘The bobbies!’ Maisie’s loud fearful whisper sent a shiver through the girl.‘Cissie Armstrong… may Gawd help yer if you’ve fetched the police to this door.’ Maisie’s warning was lost when the knock came again, this time with more insistence. When she saw that Beth was struggling from the chair, Maisie rushed forward and pressed her back. ‘Stay right there, lass,’ she told her. ‘By rights, yer should still be abed.’ She saw how the incident with Cissie had affected Beth, whose face was completely drained of colour. ‘Don’t worry. It won’t be the first time I’ve dealt with the authorities.’ She turned to Cissie. ‘We’ve come through a lot since yer dad was took from us,’ she said proudly. ‘There ain’t never been enough food, nor money. But we’ve none of us ever tekken anything that didn’t belong to us. You think on that, my girl, while I go an’ see what this ’ere bobby has in mind.’ She kept her gaze on the girl a moment longer, before swinging away and departing the room, her deliberate footsteps echoing along the passage to the front door, the sound of them reaching whoever was on the other side of that door… and at once the knocking ceased.
‘Come here, Cissie.’ Beth beckoned the girl to her. ‘Come and sit here beside me.’ She patted the arm of her chair. When Cissie did as she was bid, Beth circled her arm round the girl, asking gently, ‘Did you take anything from that man’s counter?’ When Cissie remained silent, but stared at Beth with sorrowful eyes, she asked again: ‘Did you, Cissie?’
Suddenly, the tears were rolling down the girl’s face, her expression ridden with guilt. ‘Whatever it was that you took… have you still got it?’ Beth insisted. The girl nodded, wiping the tears from her face with the back of her hand. Beth hugged her, saying softly, ‘Thank you for telling me the truth, Cissie. You know what you have to do now, don’t you?’ The girl nodded again, clinging to Beth when she embraced her closer. ‘Go now, Cissie. Quickly! Before your mother comes in with the policeman.’
Pausing long enough to return her loving hug, the girl then fled across the scullery and out of the door, with Beth craning her neck so as to see her cross the yard and go out into the back alley that ran behind the row of terraced houses. In that same moment, the sound of footsteps coming down the passage told Beth that Maisie was indeed bringing the policeman into the house, although no doubt she had been given little choice.
Beth was astonished however when Maisie appeared at the door, because she was wearing a smile instead of a frown. ‘There’s a visitor to see yer, lass,’ she told Beth. As Maisie ventured further into the room, Beth turned her attention to the tall slim figure following her. It was not a policeman after all. Relief flooded Beth’s heart. But it was tempered with embarrassment, for the visitor was none other than David Miller! The moment his eyes locked on to hers – quiet brown eyes that greeted her with a warm smile – Beth felt curiously self-conscious. Instinctively, she spread her long slim hands across the bulge beneath her dressing-robe. She wondered what a dishevelled sight she must look, with her hair only fleetingly brushed and the mark of her illness still on her.
When he came forward, the smile deepening in his surprisingly pleasant face, Beth felt rigid with embarrassment and the colour rushed to her face. But then she instantly chastised herself. After all, what did it matter how she appeared to the rentman? But, strangely enough, she found that it did matter, though she could not understand why. Unless it was the thought of her mother, and the belief she had instilled in her daughter that: ‘A respectable lady must always look her very best at all times. Nothing else matters.’ But Beth knew differently now. It had taken Maisie Armstrong to show her that other things did matter. Being a ‘lady’ did not mean wearing expensive clothes and looking down on other, less fortunate people. Nor did it mean wielding power and riding in fine carriages. Maisie had neither expensive clothes nor the airs and graces so valued by Esther Ward. Yet she was more of a ‘lady’ than Esther could ever hope to be.
As though reading part of her thoughts, Maisie quickly gathered her own long, fringed shawl from the rocking chair, and wrapped it discreetly around Beth, who thanked her quietly and proceeded to tuck the shawl-ends in until hardly an inch of her dressing-robe was visible.
‘Good afternoon.’ David Miller made a strange little bow as he stretched out his hand in greeting, his brown eyes fixed on her face. ‘I see you’re well enough to leave your sick-bed? That is good news… good news indeed.’
When Beth seemed lost for words, he pushed his hand forward, obliging her to return his greeting. And, as she did so, Beth found herself thinking how soft his hands were in comparison to Tyler’s. But then, this man spent his working day collecting money and living a soft life, while Tyler knew only hard demanding work that taxed him to the limit of his physical capabilities. But then again, who was she to judge the better man? Tyler had been her world, her life and her whole future. He had seemed deeply sincere, as much in love with her as she was with him. And yet he had both cheated and deserted her. Now, she was amused to find herself idly wondering what kind of man was D
avid Miller. What manner of creature lurked behind those soft brown eyes and seemingly shy smile? Was he a man of passion like Tyler? Or was he the cold aloof individual she had imagined? Suddenly, she was playing a game, smiling back at him, watching his reaction, waiting for the moment when the purpose of his visit was revealed. As she said to Maisie, here was a man she could not entirely trust. Indeed, Beth doubted whether she would ever again trust another man for as long as she lived. ‘I understand I owe you a debt of gratitude, Mr Miller?’ she said, her smile growing sweeter. At the same time she was appalled at this uncharacteristic hardness in her; until she reminded herself of how this same man had threatened Maisie with eviction, and caused them all so much worry.
‘I’m only glad I was able to help,’ he replied, his smile encompassing Maisie, who had come to stand beside Beth.
When there was an embarrassing lull in the conversation, Maisie intervened with, ‘By way of us gratitude, Mr Miller, would yer like to set with us a while? I’ve just made a fresh brew, an’ there’s a batch o’ newly baked apple mac on the plate there, d’yer see? Still warm they are.’ Maisie was warm-hearted, and not one for bearing grudges.
‘Well now, yes indeed, Mrs Armstrong,’ he replied, looking from Beth to Maisie. ‘I would like that very much.’ He had taken his bowler hat off at the front door, and now he gave it into Maisie’s outstretched hand. He watched while she carefully placed it on the unoccupied rocking chair, before urging him to, ‘Set yourself at the table, Mr Miller, an’ I’ll pour yer a nice cup o’ tea.’ When he did so, taking every precaution to make sure that he was facing Beth, Maisie told him, ‘Help yerself to as many o’ them apple macs as yer fancy.’
‘Don’t be too greedy, though,’ Beth warned good-humouredly, though not entirely disguising the serious intent behind her words. ‘I’m sure you understand that money does not come easily into this house, and what with the rent taking priority, there is precious little left for luxuries such as apple macs.’
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