A True Love of Mine

by Margaret Thornton

  A tenant was very soon found when it was known that there was a flat to let. This was a bachelor friend of William – a friend from childhood days – who worked as a porter at the railway station. Fred Archer was a big burly chap who would be handy to have on the premises if there were any intruders. And with regard to what happened later, William was to thank his lucky stars time and again that the rooms were already occupied.

  Clara was excited about the new venture. ‘You will be the manageress, of course,’ William told her. ‘My father is leaving the running of the shop entirely in our hands, yours and mine.’

  ‘Does that mean I won’t be going out with you on your assignments, in future?’ asked Clara.

  William smiled. ‘I thought you might have wanted a change from all that side of things,’ he replied. ‘Looking after a shop would be a much more congenial occupation, surely?’

  ‘Yes, that’s true, and I shall love it. I know I will. I always enjoyed serving in the shop when I worked at Louisa’s. But I shall miss being with you and helping you, Will,’ she said pensively. ‘You father doesn’t often get involved with the laying out any more, does he? He’s spending more and more time in the workshop and…well, I don’t think you can manage on your own, can you?’

  ‘I dare say I could,’ replied William, ‘but I must admit that I’ve got used to having you with me, and there’s nobody who would be able to work along with me as well as you do.’

  ‘Anyway, I won’t be able to manage the shop single-handedly, will I?’ Clara pointed out. ‘I will need an assistant, maybe more than one in time. How would it be if we appoint someone as under-manageress, a sort of second-in-command, who could take over whenever I need to go out on a job?’

  ‘Yes, a good idea; why not?’ said William. ‘What shall we do? Put an advertisement in the local paper? The stock will be arriving in a few weeks’ time, all being well, and you will need someone to help you to sort it out.’

  They had already made excursions to warehouses in York and Leeds to choose garments and accessories, which would be delivered when the finishing touches – the carpentry and decorating, the installation of electricity and the carpet fitting – had been completed in the new premises. Their two children, Maddy, who was almost five, and eight-year-old Patrick had been left, as they often were, in the care of their grandmother whilst their parents were absent on shopping expeditions. Both of them were at school now, so they were very little trouble.

  ‘I don’t really think we will need to need to advertise,’ said Clara thoughtfully. ‘Leave it to me, William. I think I know somebody who would just fit the bill.’

  William was relieved that his wife had forewarned him regarding the woman she had invited to come round to their premises, to see if she would like to work in their soon-to-be-opened shop.

  ‘Bella Randall?’ he had said, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice, and also the hint of censure that he realised must have been obvious in his tone. ‘The…er…woman from the perfume shop?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right,’ replied Clara, looking at him keenly. ‘Why, what’s the matter? You sound rather disapproving. Don’t you think she would be suitable? I didn’t realise you knew her, anyway.’

  ‘I don’t,’ answered William quickly, too quickly. ‘I mean…I know who she is, of course, from going into the shop to buy perfume for you. Yes, she’s always been very helpful. Her position has come to an end there, hasn’t it, with the death of Ralph Cunningham?’

  He had heard about the tragedy on the local grapevine as well as seeing the account in the local paper. Some said that Bella had been left penniless and homeless; others thought that she had been left a small legacy. At all events, the news had given William quite a jolt. He had not given much thought to the woman for years, believing she had found the comfortable little niche that she had been seeking. He could not help but wonder, with a stab of trepidation, whether she might seek his help again as she had half threatened to do. And now here was his wife preparing to offer her a job.

  ‘Yes,’ said Clara. ‘I feel so sorry for her losing her job so suddenly and her security, to say nothing of…er…the man she loved.’

  ‘He was a married man,’ said William. ‘He had a wife and a daughter in York.’ He stopped, aware of the note of reproach in his voice which would, indeed, be most hypocritical. ‘Still, from all accounts they were happy together, he and…Bella. But you must be careful, Clara. We don’t really know all that much about her – her background, I mean – do we?’

  Clara frowned at him. ‘That doesn’t sound like you, William. Why are you being so disapproving all of a sudden? I agree that we don’t know everything about her, but it would be the same with whoever we employed, wouldn’t it? And what I do know about Bella Randall I like very much. She is a very good sales assistant – most helpful and obliging – and she seems to be a nice friendly person as well. I believe she worked at Madame Grenville’s before she was at Cunningham’s, so she has some experience of the gown trade as well. I think she would be ideal for us.’

  ‘Obviously you’ve already mentioned it to her,’ said William. ‘And what did she have to say about it? I expect she jumped at the chance, didn’t she; a good position dropping straight into her lap?’

  ‘No…no, she didn’t,’ said Clara. ‘As a matter of fact she seemed rather unsure at first. Probably the thought of working in a shop that’s part of an undertaking business. I suppose the idea might be rather off-putting. That’s why I invited her to come round and see us, then we could put her at her ease if she has any problems.’

  It is more likely to be us who will have the problems, thought William, but he was not able to give voice to his doubts. ‘Very well, my dear,’ he said to his wife. ‘You are the one who will have to work along with the lady, and if you like her and you feel that you can trust her then…well…maybe that’s a good start.’

  ‘You still sound rather unsure, Will.’

  ‘No…no, I’m not. Anyway, it must be your decision.’ He knew that any misgivings he might have must be set aside or else Clara would become suspicious. ‘Where is she at the moment, by the way? The shop on Huntriss Row has closed, hasn’t it? And what about the rooms above? Is she still living there?’

  ‘No, she had to be out by the end of February.’ It was now almost the end of March. ‘She’s gone back to the place where she had rooms before, when she first came to Scarborough, on Queen Street. And she’s got a temporary job at Boyce’s store.’

  ‘Mmm; I see. Rather a come-down for her.’

  ‘Yes, so it is. I saw her there when I went in to buy some odds and ends. So when we started talking about engaging an assistant, that’s when I thought about Bella. It’s rather a pity the rooms over our shop are already spoken for,’ she added wistfully. ‘It would have been ideal for her to live on the premises, as she did at the perfumery.’

  William found himself breathing an inward sigh of relief. ‘But we’ve already promised Fred, haven’t we?’ he said. ‘Anyway, we don’t know that she’s going to take up our offer, do we?’ But he had a very strong feeling that she would.

  He shook hands formally with her when they met a few days later. Bella also made the acquaintance of Hannah Moon, William’s mother, over a cup of tea. Hannah said afterwards that she thought the young woman would be most suitable. She was polite and respectful and decorously dressed.

  Isaac had been busy working at his carpentry and had seen no reason to come out and meet the woman who would be employed in the shop. It was inevitable, though, that they should meet eventually. When that happened Bella smiled and shook hands with him, her eyes showing no glimmer of recognition, but something stirred at the back of Isaac’s mind.

  ‘That lass,’ he said to William later, ‘the one that’s just started working in t’ shop, I’ve seen her before, haven’t I?’

  William nodded. ‘Yes, Father; so you have. But I didn’t think you would have recognised her.’ He might have known, though. Isaac had a mem
ory like an elephant and there was no point in trying to pull the wool over his eyes now.

  ‘Aye, I recognised her all right,’ Isaac nodded. ‘It’s the lass you were with in t’ pub all those years ago. Not quite so flashy now I’ve got to say, but you’d best watch yer step, lad… There’s nowt going on between you and her, is there?’

  ‘Of course not,’ said William, feeling hurt and indignant. ‘She’s been back in Scarborough for ages, but I’ve had no contact with her. As if I would! Actually… I had my doubts about employing her, but Clara knows her and likes her, so I don’t see that there can be any harm in it.’

  ‘You’ve got a grand little wife there,’ said Isaac, as he had said many times before. ‘One o’ t’ best.’

  ‘And don’t you think I know that very well?’ retorted William. ‘You must know, Father, that I would never do anything to hurt Clara or the children.’

  ‘Aye, well; make sure as you don’t,’ said his father. ‘And – if you’ll take a tip from me – don’t let yon Bella get too familiar, not with any of you. Don’t let her get her feet under t’ table. She’s an employee, that’s all, now just think on.’

  William knew that he could have told Clara there and then about his former friendship with Bella. But how much or how little could he have admitted to? That was the problem. In the end he decided not to tell her anything at all.

  Five years later Bella was still employed at Moon’s Mourning Modes. She now had comfortable rooms in Trafalgar Square, only five minutes’ walk away. It would have suited her better to have had the rooms over the shop, but Clara had explained at the beginning that they were already spoken for. And the tenant, Fred, was still there. Moreover he was married now and there seemed to be no possibility of them ever moving.

  Bella had liked Clara Moon the first time she met her in the perfumery. Indeed, there was nothing to dislike about the friendly and kind-hearted woman. By the time they had worked together for a few months they were quite good friends, on Christian name terms with one another.

  She had felt right from the start, however, and she still felt that she was being held at arm’s length, not to be admitted into the close intimacy of the Moon family circle. She blamed William for this, and his father. If the decision had been left to Clara or to Hannah Moon she thought she might have been treated much more as a family friend and less as an employee. She had liked Hannah, a sweet-natured grandmother figure who had stayed very much in the background of the family business, and when that lady had died of a bout of pneumonia two years ago, Bella had felt sad. She had, of course, been invited to the funeral and to the meal that followed. Similarly, she was sometimes asked along to happier events; the children’s birthday teas and for a meal at Christmas. That was usually on Boxing Day, Christmas Day itself being reserved solely for family members.

  She knew that Isaac had recognised her at their first meeting. What a memory he must have, to be sure. She realised that nothing much escaped old Isaac, and she felt that it was his say-so which had prevented her from being accepted whole-heartedly as a friend. There was a constraint between them, herself and Isaac, just as there was between her and William.

  Why had she stayed, she often asked herself, on the outer fringes of the Moon family but never quite one of them? She had a secure and well-paid job; an interesting one, too. That was one reason for staying, she supposed. And her rooms in Trafalgar Square were spacious and comfortable and convenient for the shop. Her social life had dwindled in the years since Ralph’s death. Couples with whom they had been friendly no longer sought her company. It might have been different were she a widow, but the bereaved mistress – or ‘other woman’ – was now treated with a certain amount of pity, but not a good deal of friendliness.

  Strangely enough, the couple who still regarded her as a friend were the Greens, Maud and Archie, Maud having long since recovered from her show of pique on losing her valued assistant. It had become customary for Bella to spend Christmas Day with them and she was sometimes invited round for Sunday tea.

  There were times, though, when she was lonely, and it was then that the acrimonious thoughts that were always lingering on the periphery of her mind began to intensify. And she knew, deep down, the reason that she stayed was because she could not break away. It was a bitter-sweet agony watching this family who were so happy together.

  She had seen the children, Patrick and Madeleine, grow and mature as children should. Patrick, now aged fourteen, was working with his father and grandfather, learning the various aspects of the undertaking business. He was a cheerful even-tempered lad with a look of his father – dark-haired and brown-eyed, with a ruddy healthy-looking complexion – but possessed of a much more outgoing disposition than Will had ever had. Bella liked Patrick and the lad treated her with the same easy friendliness that he showed to everyone.

  Madeleine – Maddy – who was now ten years old, was the image of her mother. Bella had to admit that she was a nice friendly little girl, well brought up, of course, and usually polite. But Bella had never been able to take to the child. Her feelings for her bordered on dislike, which she always tried to hide when other members of the family were around. She guessed, though, that Maddy was aware of these feelings of animosity – she was a perceptive child – and, what was more, Bella had come to realise that the antipathy was mutual.

  The reason, as far as Bella was concerned, was a simple one. She, too, had a daughter with whom she had lost touch many years ago. Indeed, she was not supposed to have had any contact at all since the adoption, although she had stolen a glimpse of the child very occasionally, until she was five years old. Henrietta would be nineteen now; a young woman. She might even be married, but Bella had no idea of her whereabouts. None of this was Maddy’s fault, and Bella knew that it was unreasonable of her to feel the way she did about the child, but she could not help herself.

  There had been times when she was with Ralph that she had almost forgotten about her daughter. She had loved Ralph and there had been other things to fill her life and occupy her mind. In the same way, thoughts of William Moon had receded to the back of her mind. But since Ralph’s death, the memories and the remorse she had felt regarding the adoption, had returned a hundredfold. And along with them came bitter feelings about the man whom she believed had loved her. She had blindly gone on believing that, one day, they would be married; or if that were not possible, that she would be comfortably provided for in her advancing years.

  In spite of all this she was fond of Clara, so much so that she was almost able to forget at times about the unspoken secrets that lay between them. At other times her envy of Will Moon’s wife – a woman who had everything she wanted in life – would surface to the forefront of her mind. She, Bella, was now thirty-eight years of age – fast approaching forty – and sometimes her embittered thoughts convinced her that life had handed her a very raw deal.

  Chapter Twelve

  1900

  ‘Patrick, you won’t start teasing my friend because she’s got red hair, will you? And I’ve told you before, you don’t even mention corpses!’

  ‘Of course I won’t!’ Patrick answered his sister with a look of wide-eyed innocence. ‘Fancy you thinking I would! Surely you know me better than that, Maddy.’

  ‘Yes, I do know you,’ retorted Maddy, ‘and that’s why I’m telling you. We’ve got to make her feel welcome. Mam says so, and I know what an awful tease you can be.’

  ‘What, me?’ Patrick gave a good-natured laugh. ‘No, honestly, Maddy, I won’t call her Carrots or Gingernut if that’s what you’re afraid of. I’ll be a model of good behaviour. I saw her yesterday – have you forgotten? – and I was extremely polite to her then. She’s called Jessie, isn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, short for Jessica. And I think she’s going to be my very best friend while she’s staying here. I wish she could stay here for ever; go to my school and everything.’

  ‘You’ve only known her a few days,’ replied Patrick. ‘If I know you girls you�
��ll have fallen out by next week.’

  ‘Oh no we won’t!’ retorted Maddy. ‘Jessie’s really nice and I shall never fall out with her.’

  ‘Well, make the most of it while she’s here then,’ said her brother. ‘Summer holidays don’t last all that long.’

  ‘Theirs do,’ said Maddy. ‘They’re here for a whole month.’

  ‘Well, lucky old them,’ said Patrick. ‘We have to be satisfied with a day in Whitby or Bridlington, don’t we?’

  ‘You don’t do too badly, neither of you,’ said their mother, coming in from the kitchen and catching the tail end of the conversation. ‘You don’t go short of much. We’re always too busy to have proper holidays anyway, if that’s what you were saying. Your dad and I have been promising ourselves a weekend away for ages; happen to Llandudno or Colwyn Bay,’ she added wistfully, ‘but we never seem to be able to get round to it… Maddy, come along now, there’s a good girl. Put that book down and come and give me a hand in the kitchen. You said you would and I don’t usually have to remind you. It’s your friend who’s coming to tea, remember.’

  ‘Sorry, Mam,’ said Maddy. ‘I’d just got to a good bit, you see, and then Patrick came in and started talking to me.’

  ‘I like that!’ replied Patrick. ‘It was her, Mam, going on about me behaving myself while Jessie’s here. Honestly, she’s so worked up, anybody’d think it was a bloomin’ princess coming for her tea.’

  ‘Well, just think on that you treat our guest as though she is a princess,’ said Clara. ‘Are you ready now, Maddy?’

  Reluctantly Maddy put down the book she had been reading and followed her mother into the kitchen. Treasure Island had been a birthday present from her brother; a boy’s book really, she supposed, but she was enjoying it immensely.

  It was true that she was in quite a lather of excitement about Jessie coming for tea. She and her mother had discussed at length what they should have to eat. They had decided on three sorts of sandwiches; salmon paste, egg and cress, and a special potted meat from the butcher’s on the next block. Maddy had insisted they should be cut ‘fancy’, in triangles instead of straight across, but Clara had refused to cut off the crusts. She believed that children should be encouraged to eat the crusts; her two had always done so. Then there were Clara’s specialities; sausage rolls, home-baked gingerbread, curd tarts, and iced buns with cherries on top. She had been busy baking all morning. And as a party was not a proper party without a jelly, as far as Maddy was concerned, there was a quivering red jelly in a fancy shape – which, fortunately, had turned out perfectly from the jelly mould – to be served with tinned pears and evaporated milk.