Don’t Cry Alone

by Don’t Cry Alone (retail) (epub)

  A deal was made between the three of them. Richard could play outside a while longer, while Cissie and Beth washed the dishes. Afterwards, Beth would choose a story, and Cissie would read it to the boy until he fell asleep. Normally this was Beth’s favourite time… when her son was lying sleepy in his bed and she would read him a story about creatures and little people; gentle stories that soon sent him into a peaceful slumber. Cissie also loved to read to him, and considered it a real treat when Beth gave the privilege over to her. There had grown between Cissie and the boy a strong abiding love that was wonderful to see. It was a source of great pleasure and comfort to Beth, especially since Cissie s own brother appeared to have turned his back on her. It was a sad thing to Beth, and one which only made her all the more determined to draw Matthew back into the family fold. To that end, she tried to keep alive Cissie’s love for her brother, although it was proving more and more difficult as the girl frequently pointed out, ‘He ain’t the same, Beth. He ain’t like my Matthew no more.’

  It was eight o’clock when Cissie collected the tin bath from the outside shed. Already, the darkness was closing in, and there was a real winter nip in the air. When she returned to the kitchen, she found Beth sprinkling a shovelful of coals on to the fire. ‘Draw the curtains, Cissie, and keep the cold out.’

  In no time at all, the fire was blazing cheerfully, the curtains were drawn against the night, and Beth was pouring the water from the kettle into the bath; a spill of cold water from the ewer, then another drop from the kettle, and the water was just the right temperature, the warm steam rising nicely and filling the room with a comfortable warm smell. ‘Come on, Richard,’ she told the boy. Going to the chair where he was already dropping off to sleep, she gently pulled him to his feet and began peeling the clothes from his back.

  ‘I’m tired… don’t want a wash,’ he mumbled, leaning his small sturdy figure against her, and twisting both hands into his dark hair until it made a tangled mass.

  Ignoring his protests, Beth stripped away his undergarments and lifted him into her arms. ‘We’ll make it a quick wash then, shall we?’ she asked, kissing his warm round face and pressing him to her. When he murmured and clung to her all the more, she was tempted to put him in his night-shift and take him straight to bed, but Sunday night was bath night, and he would sleep all the better for it, she thought. Setting him to his feet, she tested the bath water once more. Satisfied, she helped him into the bath and began soaping him all over; as usual, he bawled loudly when it came to washing his hair. Next came the rinsing, then the part he liked best of all… standing naked before the warm fire, while his mammy dried him with the soft towel that wrapped round him like a cloak. In no time at all, he was scrubbed shiny, dressed in his night-shift, and seated in the big armchair, with the heat from the fire drying his hair and making him feel all sleepy.

  ‘I’ll take him up to his bed, Cissie,’ Beth told her, at the same time taking the boy by the hand and leading him towards the door. ‘Mind you wash all over. I’ll be down in a minute. Meanwhile, stay away from the fireplace, like I’ve always told you. I’ll help you dry your hair when I come down.’ Beth was always very careful to put a safety screen across the fire, but ever since the tragedy that had taken Maisie, she suffered from a real dread of accidents. Once, when she caught Cissie with her head down, drying herself in the heat from the fire with her hair hanging over her eyes and dangerously close to the flames, her heart had turned somersaults.

  ‘Don’t worry, Beth,’ Cissie called after her. ‘I won’t even be washed by the time you come down.’

  ‘Oh, yes, you will, my girl! And don’t use any more hot water, or there’ll be none left for me,’ Beth told her sharply. She knew Cissie well enough to recognise a ruse when she saw one. Cissie hated going to bed, and she hated getting up in the morning, but she thoroughly enjoyed lazing in the bath, and finding every excuse not to say goodnight. ‘I want to see you washed and almost dried by the time I come down. I don’t want you turning up late for the shop tomorrow morning. It’s your first day, and you need to make a good impression.’ Cissie had been most reluctant to surrender her independence and take up employment in Moll Sutton’s flower shop. Beth, however, was determined that she should enjoy a more stable position, with a regular wage; though even she had to agree that it was merely a pittance.

  Beth had long been concerned about Cissie’s ‘wanderings’. There were too many unsavoury characters lurking about, and Cissie was not only young and pretty but had a friendly loving nature that could easily lead her into trouble. As she went from the room, Beth could hear Cissie moaning behind her, and knew they would be going through the same old argument when she returned to the kitchen.

  Smiling to herself, she led the boy across the hall and on up the staircase, then along the galleried landing towards the far end of the corridor and Richard’s room which was situated between the larger room that was Cissie’s and the bright pretty room that was Beth’s and David’s. He would have preferred that the children be positioned a greater distance away from them, but she had insisted, particularly in view of Cissie’s broken nights and fits of terror following the fire in Larkhill. Her nightmares had deeply affected Richard, and so Beth had told her husband, ‘Either they stay close by where I can hear them should they need me… or I’ll arrange for the children, and myself, to move to the east end of the house.’ She was not surprised when he withdrew his objection.

  For some time now, and urged on by the old man’s taunts, he had been intent on fathering a child of his own. David’s need for a son had become an obsession. It was an ordeal for Beth to be used for this night after night, but she comforted herself with the knowledge that he truly loved her and was always both gentle and considerate. She felt guilty that the love between them was all one way, and yet there was nothing in this world that she could do to change her feelings. What she felt for David was not love but gratitude, with maybe a scattering of affection. The kind of love he wanted she could never give, and had never made any pretence of. In her heart, Beth sensed that he knew the way of things, and this only made him all the more determined to have a son of his own. He had never insisted that Beth’s son call him ‘Daddy’, and she was immensely thankful for that. Richard was Tyler’s son.

  One day in the future, when he could understand, she would tell him about his father; she hoped she might be able to explain the facts without revealing how Tyler had deserted them. Often she had seen David looking at her son, a look that was filled with longing and, sadly, a measure of envy. Beth had a love for children, but how she wished she could have borne them for the man she loved, instead of the man she was indebted to. All the same, if it happened that David made her with child, she would bear the child proudly, and be glad that she had brought him a degree of happiness. So far, though, there was no sign of it.

  ‘Can I have a story, Mammy?’ In the light from the lamp the child blinked his weary eyes, his question muffled by a long noisy yawn.

  Tucking him deeper into the bed, Beth leaned forward to kiss his face. ‘I promised, didn’t I?’ she reminded him, going to the dresser and opening the drawer there. Taking out the small leatherbound book, she held it beneath the flickering light. ‘A tale from Lamb,’ she muttered, opening it on the first page. ‘Cissie won’t be coming up for a while,’ she said, making her way back to the bed, ‘do you want to wait? Or shall Mammy read it?’ The last word was shaped by her smile. The child was already fast and hard asleep. Going on tiptoe to the dresser, Beth replaced the book, then taking the oil-lamp with her, drew the curtains; but not right across, for she knew how the boy liked a chink of moonlight to shine through. After another fond peep at his sleeping face, she crept out of the room, softly closed the door, and gathering up her skirt in order not to trip over the hem on the way down the stairs, swiftly retraced her steps back to the kitchen and Cissie.

  When Beth pushed open the kitchen door, she was taken aback to see that Cissie was not alone. Matthew was there. Ciss
ie was kneeling on the rug, her back to the fire and her slim body bent forward over the bath. Her hair was dipping into the water and, stooping above her, Matthew was carefully pouring water from the jug, making a cascade over her hair as it washed the soapy water back into the bath. For some reason she could not instantly understand, Beth was riveted with shock. Neither Matthew nor the girl was aware that she had come into the room, and as Beth’s eyes went from the unique expression of wonder on the boy’s handsome face, to the girl’s slender form… the small budding breasts, and the young limbs that were already shaping into those of a young woman… a strange sense of revulsion shivered through her.

  ‘Matthew,’ her voice startled him. As she came forward, he almost dropped the jug, his face pink and confused as she continued to stare at him. Taking the jug from his hand, she said in a cool voice, ‘I’ll take care of Cissie.’ So many unpleasant thoughts were spilling through her mind that Beth was made to recall her husband’s words with regard to Luther… ‘You see only bad in him’. Was that really true? And was it also true that she saw only bad in Maisie’s boy? A rush of guilt caused her to temper her attitude. ‘Perhaps you would be so kind as to empty the bath for me later?’ she asked, forcing a half smile and putting herself between Matthew and his sister.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ he replied sullenly, unrolling his sleeves and going to the chair, where he collected the burgundy waistcoat given to him by the old man. ‘I have other things to do.’ Pushing his arms into the waistcoat, which he then buttoned up the wrong way in his confusion, he pointed to the girl who had lifted the veil of wet hair from her face and was peeking out of one eye. ‘I thought the children were already in bed,’ he said guardedly. ‘Luther sent me to see if it was all right for him to come and get himself something to eat.’

  At the mention of the old man’s name, Beth’s hackles rose. ‘Well, you can tell him it’s not all right!’ she snapped. ‘What’s more, he, like you, was asked to join us for tea. If the pair of you would rather stay away, then so be it; but you must not be surprised if the rest of us refuse to be inconvenienced by such behaviour.’ No sooner were the words out of her mouth than she regretted them. Every time she vowed to get closer to Matthew, she only succeeded in driving him further away. However, she had been somehow unnerved by finding him here in this way. One other thing had to be said, and she said it now. ‘What do you mean, Matthew… you thought the “children” were in bed? You would do well to remember that you yourself are little more than a child. Certainly, you are not yet a man, although I’ve no doubt that one day soon, you will make a fine young man.’ She was visibly astonished when a strange little giggle broke from him, after which he stared at her defiantly. It struck her then just how quickly he really was becoming a man. In all these months when Matthew had kept out of her way, he had changed from the boy she had known when she first came to Maisie’s house. Now, Maisie’s beloved son had grown much taller, possessed of the broad shoulders of a man, his face having acquired a gaunt handsome profile that held a certain arrogance. The eyes that were violet like his mother’s were strangely secretive, seeming to frown and smile at the same time. The way he looked at her now disturbed Beth deeply. Suddenly, he shrugged his strong shoulders, before deliberately turning his back on her and strolling from the room.

  Beth had a mind to go after him, but then Cissie called out, ‘I’m cold, and my hair’s dripping all over the place.’ Beth went immediately to her assistance. Intent on getting the girl dried before she caught a chill, she did not see Matthew push open the door to stare at his sister, then at Beth. When the door quietly swung to, she paid it no mind. There were too many thoughts pressing on her, too many instincts that bristled inside her. Before she finished here and made her way to the sitting room, there were certain things she must say to Cissie, and she must say them without alarming the girl, yet, at the same time, make her aware that she was no longer a child, that she already had the mark of a woman on her. Beth called herself all kinds of a fool, for she herself had not realised how quickly the girl was growing up. From now on, when Cissie was taking her bath, that door would be locked, just as it was when Beth herself was bathing. The men, Matthew included, always had a strip-wash in the outer scullery.

  * * *

  ‘Right then, my girl.’ Dipping her two hands in the neck of Cissie’s night-shift, Beth drew out the long brown locks, spreading them over the collar and fanning the hair out as it was not altogether dry. ‘Get yourself off to bed. Like I said, I don’t want you being late your first day at the shop.’ She had spoken to Cissie about ensuring that the door was locked in future when she was taking a bath. Beth had been surprised to know that Cissie herself had been thinking along those very same lines, and it only told her that she was right about Maisie’s children – they were growing up fast. She had not realised it until now.

  Cissie had also been entertaining secret hopes that Beth just might change her mind about sending her to work at the flower shop. When she saw that her hopes might come to nothing, she was horrified. ‘Oh, Beth! Must I go and work in that shop? I’d rather be out and about, finding my customers in the market-square or the boulevard.’

  ‘You want to learn all there is to know about selling flowers, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes… but…’

  ‘And you want to be the best flower-seller in the whole of Lancashire, don’t you?’

  ‘You know I do.’

  ‘Then you can learn a great deal by working in Moll Sutton’s shop, and get paid in the process.’

  ‘I can’t learn no more than I already know!’ Cissie protested.

  ‘What exactly do you know, Cissie?’

  ‘Well…’ Beth’s forthright question had taken her by surprise. ‘I know which are tulips and which daffodils, and I know what to charge… a tanner for a big bunch, threepence if they’re past their best bloom, and a penny for a sprig of heather.’ Her grin ran from ear to ear. She felt very pleased with herself.

  ‘Do you know anything about how the flowers appear in the warehouse? Or where they all come from? Or what they cost to buy in?’ When Cissie looked like breaking in, Beth went on, ‘What about cartage… and how long will they keep in certain conditions? What margin of profit is there?’ She paused to let the girl reflect on her questions. ‘Well?’ she asked at length. ‘Do you think you know as much about selling flowers as Moll Sutton?’

  ‘I know if I happen to find a bunch that’s been thrown out ’cause it’s past its best, I can likely get a threepenny piece for it at the railway station. That’s good profit, ain’t it?’ she remarked cheekily.

  ‘Ah! But it won’t buy you a shop, now, will it?’ Beth was quick to point out. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know how Moll Sutton made so much money that she could get herself a shop?’

  ‘Naw. I don’t want a shop, Beth.’ Cissie was adamant. ‘I only want to sell me flowers wherever I find meself a customer.’

  ‘You can argue until you’re blue in the face, my girl,’ Beth told her firmly, ‘but it won’t do you any good. In my book, if you set your heart on a particular way to earn a living, then you should find out everything you can about it.’ They were her father’s words and she had never forgotten them.

  Sensing Beth’s quieter mood, Cissie was intrigued. ‘What do you know best?’ she asked, slipping her arm round Beth’s slim waist as the two of them sauntered to the dor.

  ‘Oh, I know a bit about land development,’ she confessed, ‘and I suppose I know about children, and the things your mammy taught me.’

  ‘What did your own mammy teach you, Beth?’ It suddenly occurred to Cissie that Beth had never spoken about her own parents. ‘You have got a mammy, haven’t you, and a daddy? Why don’t you ever talk about them?’ Her big blue eyes swivelled upwards, watching Beth’s changing expression. She felt guilty when she sensed Beth’s deep sadness. ‘Aw, I’m sorry. Me and my big mouth, eh?’ she said, lowering her gaze and wishing she knew when to hold her tongue.

  Hugging the
girl close to her, Beth replied quietly, ‘It’s all right, Cissie. It’s only natural that you should want to know about my parents.’ She laughed softly in a bid to put the girl at ease. ‘After all, I know all about you, don’t I?’ She fell silent for a moment, grateful when Cissie decided not to press her. At the door, Beth held the girl at arm’s length, then, looking into those mischievous blue eyes that betrayed Cissie’s delightful nature, told her softly, ‘One day, Cissie, I will tell you all about my family, I promise.’ In her mind’s eye she saw the face of her father, and her heart was heavy. ‘Now off to your bed, young lady.’

  Cissie had seen Beth’s sadness. ‘You know I love you,’ she said with childlike simplicity.

  Beth’s dark eyes grew moist as she pulled the girl to her. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘And I love you too.’

  ‘Goodnight, Beth.’ Reaching up, Cissie kissed her lightly.

  ‘Goodnight, God bless.’ After Cissie had gone, Beth closed the door and stood with her back against it, her eyes downcast. In her innocent curiosity, Cissie had opened old wounds. After all this time, Beth had hoped that the memories would be less painful. They were not. And yet, if she could turn the clock back, would she change anything? Would she not want to know the joy she had experienced in Tyler’s arms? That wonderful love they had shared and which had given her the precious gift of a son. How could she not want that? If her relationship with Tyler had brought her a deal of heartache, it had also brought her so much more. No, she would not want to change that… only to have it go on, with Tyler wanting her as much as she wanted him. But that was not to be. Tyler’s love was only a passing thing, or he would be here now, loving her, helping to raise their son, and making her lonely life complete. ‘Put it behind you, Beth, once and for all!’ she told herself firmly. ‘You must let the past go or you’ll drive yourself out of your mind.’