A True Love of Mine

by Margaret Thornton

  ‘Because you knew we’d win,’ scoffed Patrick to his sister. ‘We’re bigger and stronger than you.’

  ‘No, that’s not the reason at all,’ she argued. ‘Anyway, Uncle Percy would take that into consideration at the judging.’

  One family against the other would have meant four against two, which was unbalanced. Eventually it was decided to have two teams of three; Patrick, Jessie and Tommy in one, and Samuel, Maddy and Tilly in the other.

  Maddy was quite excited at the thought of spending more time with Samuel, although she was a little in awe of him. He seemed so clever and grown up and she wondered if she would be able to think of things to say to him. But when they were involved in the task of castle building there was not much opportunity to have long conversations.

  Samuel had been working on a grand design, even though he had at first scorned the idea. But he had come to the conclusion that if a job was worth doing, it was worth doing well. If he was to take part at all then he must make sure that his team was the winning one. Maddy, when she was told about it, was quite happy to go along with his suggestion of a castle with not just one, but several turrets, and a surrounding moat, resembling the Tower of London. She had, of course, not seen that building, only heard of it, but Samuel had seen it on a visit to London. He had also asked his father, when he had come on a fleeting visit to Scarborough the previous weekend, to bring his toy cannons with him – long discarded as playthings, but still kept as mementoes of his childhood – and he had even constructed a Traitor’s Gate out of wooden spills.

  The castle of the other team, that of Patrick, Jessie and Tommy, was nowhere near as elaborate. Patrick, who had heard from Jessie that her brother was working on something special – she had sneaked a look at his supposedly secret plans when he was not there – had tried to think of something comparable. Then, Why not Scarborough Castle? he thought, seeing that it was right there on top of the cliffs for them to copy. The facsimile which they built was, indeed, a good representation and they were awarded second prize for being topical and showing originality. But Samuel, Maddy and Tilly were the undoubted winners. Everyone agreed it was a magnificent sandcastle and Samuel was not unstinting with his praise of his two helpers.

  ‘You have worked like a Trojan, Maddy,’ he told her. ‘I couldn’t possibly have done it without you, and you, of course, Tilly.’ Maddy didn’t need to ask him what he meant. They had been learning about the hard-working Trojans and the wooden horse at school, so she was pleased at the compliment. She was, indeed, very tired and red-faced with all the exertion. Her arms ached with the effort of digging and her hair had lost its ribbon and was all over the place.

  ‘See, here’s your pretty green ribbon, Maddy,’ said Mrs Barraclough, picking it up from the sand. ‘Let me tie your hair up again. Goodness me, child! You’ve tired yourself out, haven’t you? Never mind; you’ll feel better when you’ve had a nice drink and something to eat.’

  They were all going back to the Barracloughs’ lodgings to have tea, which Maddy thought was a wonderful ending to a happy afternoon. Regrettably they said goodbye to their works of art. All the sandcastles had been built near to the sea wall, to keep them out of danger from the encroaching sea for as long as possible. They were still standing upright, but they all knew that if they were to return in an hour or two the sea would have done its worst. It was far better to remember them as they were, and fortunately Faith had had the presence of mind to bring along their Kodak camera and take a few photographs. That was just one memorable event amongst many that the two families enjoyed during that summer of 1900. It seemed, especially to the children, looking back on it, that there had been days and days of endless sunshine. They knew, of course, that there had been wind and rain, and occasionally, as August drew to a close, the mists that Scarborough was accustomed to. A ‘sea fret’, the locals called it. But Maddy chose to remember only the sunshine and the friendships she had enjoyed during those few weeks in the summer, before things started to go wrong.

  Faith Barraclough, also, looked back on those few weeks as an idyll, a most welcome respite from the humdrum reality of her life back in York. For a short while she had been able to leave her problems behind her and to enjoy herself in the company of her children and her new friends, the Moon family. She had been happy, she had laughed a lot, and Jessica, the most sensitive of all her brood, had remarked to her mother how nice it was to see her smiling so much.

  Edward had been to visit them for only one weekend, and that, Faith knew, was a duty visit; the children might well have asked questions if he had not come at all. As it was, she was aware that they were not overjoyed to see their father and showed little enthusiasm for his presence; apart from the exuberant Tommy who was full of stories of all the exciting things they had done and were going to do. Samuel had made use of his father’s visit by asking him to bring some necessary embellishments for his castle; and he did deign to show his father the master plan, a secret he had not divulged to his mother.

  She wondered if Samuel would always regard the female sex as the one of lesser importance, in the way his father had always done. The tendency was there in her elder son, but she had noticed a certain softening of his attitude over the last few weeks, especially in his dealings with little Maddy. What a delightful child she was, to be sure. Even Samuel had taken notice of her; more than that, he had really seemed to like her. He had previously treated girls of any age with indifference, apart from the soft spot he had always had for his little sister, Tilly. If there was a chink in his armour it was his fondness for Tilly; and Faith thought she had seen the chink widen a little more when he met and came to know Maddy. She feared her husband’s influence on the boy, but Samuel surely could not fail to notice the deepening rift between his parents, and she trusted him to be able to evaluate the situation without prejudice.

  It was a morning in mid-September and Faith was alone in their home in a leafy suburb, just outside the walls of the city of York. It was a large greystone house in a pleasant avenue near to the road which led on to Knaresborough. From the upper front windows you could see the towers of the Minster – Faith was looking towards them now from her bedroom window – and from the back ones the view was across the rolling plains that was the Vale of York. They had lived in the house for sixteen years, ever since she and Edward had married.

  She had believed she would be happy with Edward. She had known him for many years. He was the son of family friends of her parents and she had grown up admiring the handsome young man who was four years older than herself. The age difference was too great at first, and so he had taken little notice of her until she was seventeen years of age and developing into a beautiful young woman. That was not her own estimation of herself. She remained modest and self-effacing although she could not be unaware that she had many admirers. It was Edward Barraclough, though, for whom she had long had a fondness, who won her hand and her heart. Both sets of parents were delighted, believing it to be an ideal match. They were married when she was twenty-one and he was twenty-five.

  She had realised before less than a year had passed that what Edward wanted was a presentable wife – one who was docile and knew her place – to accompany him to functions and to dinner parties in the houses of his influential friends, and to act as hostess for the reciprocal gatherings in their own home. With the help of servants of course, because Edward was already climbing fast in the banking world and commanding quite a substantial salary. The bonus for Edward was that his wife was not merely presentable, she was beautiful; and he did not stint on the amount he let her spend – indeed, encouraged her to spend – on clothing and items of luxury for their home. She wanted for nothing in the material sense, but she soon learnt that Edward was self-centred, arrogant, and not at all loving or affectionate.

  He had been attentive at first during their period of courtship, but after he had wooed and won her his interest in her had gradually waned. They had slept in the same bed at first and she had become accu
stomed to his unemotional way of making love. It seemed always as though his mind was elsewhere. Consequently, this was something she had come to tolerate rather than enjoy, and when he suggested that they should have separate beds and then, later, separate rooms she had agreed without question. He needed more privacy, he said, and he was sure that she did too. As the house was plenty large enough she had been more than happy to concur.

  She knew, of course, that he was not faithful to her. His frequent absences from home confirmed this in her mind, but she had not bothered to find anything out about what he did or his whereabouts when he was not at home. She had become as indifferent to him as he was to her. Both sets of parents, hers and Edward’s, living on the other side of York, knew nothing of the state of their marriage, or if they did they had chosen not to become involved. Faith could not say that she was happy with the situation; how could she be? But she had built around herself a wall of complacency and detachment so that nothing Edward did could touch her. In truth, she knew she had little to complain about in her husband, apart from his total indifference to her. He did not bully or beat her as she knew some husbands did, nor did he lose his temper or criticise her unduly. Many women, she knew, might envy her comfortable lifestyle and her elegant clothes. Only she knew how empty her life would be were it were not for her children.

  It was only when she got away from her home that she became fully aware of what she was missing. Her outer shell of aloofness and self-restraint started to crumble as she began to really enjoy herself. As it had done during those few glorious weeks in the summer when she and the children had met the Moon family…

  She sat down on her bedroom chair, looking once again at the photographs she had taken during the happy times they had spent together on the beach. Tilly and Tommy paddling at the edge of the sea; Jessica and Maddy, who had become bosom pals, with their arms around each other’s shoulders; and the ones of the sandcastle competition which they had all enjoyed, even Samuel. Most particularly Samuel, she smiled to herself, as his team had won, and her elder son always strived to be a winner.

  There they were, Samuel, Maddy and Tilly, looking pleased and proud, with Percy Morgan – Uncle Percy – standing behind them. He had asked if he could be on the photograph. What a charming and friendly man he was and popular with the children and grown-ups alike. Then he had posed with Patrick, Jessie and Tommy, the team which had come second, realising that Tommy, particularly, might be disappointed if they were left out.

  There were very few photos of Faith herself; only one that Maddy had insisted on taking – after being given strict instructions to hold the camera still – of Faith, Jessie and the twins; and another, taken by Jessie, which included Maddy. She was sorry that there were even fewer of William and Clara. They had always been hard at work whilst she had been taking her ease with the children on the sands.

  There were two group photographs, though, taken at the rear of the Moons’ house. They had all gone back to enjoy a tea party there after attending the benefit concert which had been held for Charlie Wagstaff, the character man, who was retiring from the company of Pierrots. Grandfather Isaac had taken one of the photographs of the families, standing in two rows with the children at the front. They were all smiling broadly at the camera; William, Clara and Patrick, Faith and Samuel, and Bella Randall at the back; with Jessie, Maddy, Tommy and Tilly on the front row. Then William had changed places and acted as the photographer so that his father could be included. Faith had wondered at the time why Bella, who was the only one who was not ‘family’ had not volunteered; but she guessed that the woman could not resist taking her share of the limelight when the occasion arose.

  Faith had found herself developing a mild antipathy to Bella the first time she met her, which was when Clara had invited her to visit the shop and view the merchandise. She had tried to conquer her instinctive dislike – she always sought to see the best in people whenever she could – telling herself that there was no reason for her to feel that way; she did not even know the woman. But when she was in her company again, at the tea party, Faith knew that her feelings had not changed; indeed, they were intensified. For one thing, she was aware of the animosity between Bella and Isaac Moon and, likewise, between the woman and little Maddy; although the unfriendly vibrations seemed to be coming mainly from Bella. She was sure there must be a reason for this; some secret hidden in the past, maybe. Both Isaac and Maddy were, to her mind, most friendly and likeable, and she could not understand why Bella should be hostile towards them.

  She had also noticed that Bella harboured a fondness – possibly a good deal more than a fondness – for William Moon. There were times, Faith had noticed – as she observed the woman surreptitiously – when her dark eyes smouldered with passion and desire as she looked at him. But William had seemed to be unaware of her regard; so did his wife. Clara had told her that Bella was a family friend and she had worked at the shop ever since it had opened five years ago. She had become much more than a shop assistant, and so Clara liked to include her now and again at family gatherings to show how much she was appreciated. And it was clear that the two women, Clara and Bella, did appear to get along very well together; there was no sign of animosity in their relationship.

  But Faith had a suspicion that all was not as it seemed. Could it be that William and Bella Randall had known one another rather well at one time, unbeknown to Clara? She was a striking-looking woman, with jet black hair swept back in a chignon, lustrous dark eyes and a well-rounded figure. She almost had the look of a gipsy, and Faith could not help but wonder about her background and her past.

  But whatever had taken place, maybe long years ago, there was one thing of which Faith was sure; William Moon now had eyes for no one but his beloved wife. They were a loving and well-matched couple, perfectly attuned to each other’s ideas and feelings. Faith had felt a pang of envy as she watched them together, but at the same time she wished for them continued happiness in their marriage. Would, though, that she could experience the same affinity with Edward as her new-found friends had found with one another.

  Faith was not immune to the appeal of the opposite sex, although she knew she would never be tempted to behave in the same way as her husband was doing. William Moon was a most attractive and amiable man. Reasonably handsome – although she supposed Edward was the more striking as far as looks were concerned – but it was William’s personality that she had found so pleasing. He was kind and modest, not as outspoken as either his father or his son, but not without a wry sense of humour. In short, she had liked him a lot and, moreover, in the time she had spent with him she had felt that he liked her too. But she knew only too well that Clara was the love of his life.

  Charlie Wagstaff’s benefit performance had been held on a Wednesday afternoon during the last week of August.

  ‘Wouldn’t it be grand if we could all go?’ Clara had said to her husband. She enjoyed the Pierrot shows although not with the same intensity as did her father-in-law and her daughter; but she had been only once this year, to an evening performance way back at the beginning of the season. ‘Maddy has kept on and on about it. Jessie and all her family are going, so I thought I could ask them to come back here for tea afterwards. What do you think, Will?’

  William pondered. ‘I’ll see what my father has to say. At the moment I can see no reason why we shouldn’t go, Dad an’ all if he can manage it. Aye; unless somebody kicks the bucket unexpectedly we should be able to spare the time. We’ve been fairly quiet these last few weeks as you know.’

  ‘I thought about asking Bella along as well,’ said Clara, ‘seeing as it’s on a Wednesday afternoon and the shop will be closed.’ William looked at her keenly, raising his eyebrows in an unspoken query. ‘Yes, I know what you mean,’ she went on. ‘I know you said I hadn’t to get too intimate, like, with her, but she’s been a good friend to me. And it’s ages since she was included in one of our get-togethers. Of course I know your father’s not too keen on her, though I’ve n
ever really understood why.’

  ‘Oh…just a clash of personalities, I dare say,’ replied William with a shrug. ‘I think he regarded her as something of an upstart at first when she started working for us. Yes…that’s all right with me, love. Invite Bella by all means. You’ll go to the show though, won’t you? I mean, with you suggesting they all came back for tea?’

  ‘Yes, of course I will. I shall prepare everything well in advance, then I’ll only have the tea to brew and odds and ends to finish off when we get back. It’ll be a nice farewell for the Barraclough family, won’t it? They’ll be going back the following weekend. It’s amazing, isn’t it, how time flies?’

  ‘It is indeed,’ said William with a sigh.

  ‘The boy I love is up in the gallery,

  The boy I love is looking down at me…’

  Several heads looked sideways and people smiled at the little golden-haired girl who was joining in so exuberantly with the singing. Susannah, the soubrette, dressed in a red satin gown full of frills and flounces, in emulation of the great music hall star Marie Lloyd had invited the audience to join in with the second chorus.

  ‘…There he is, can’t you see, waving of his handkerchief,

  Merry as a robin that sits on a tree.’

  ‘That was good; I enjoyed that,’ said Maddy as Susannah curtsied and waved her hand, then blew kisses to the audience and disappeared behind the curtain at the back of the stage. It was the end of the first half of the show.

  ‘Yes, I could see you did,’ said Jessie. ‘You have a really nice voice, haven’t you, Maddy? I’ve noticed you singing before. Do you have singing lessons, or are you in a choir or something?’

  ‘’Course I’m not,’ Maddy laughed. ‘I just enjoy singing, that’s all.’

  ‘You’re just as good as that Susannah,’ said Jessie, nodding in a decided manner. ‘I say, Maddy, perhaps when you’re old enough you could join the Pierrot troupe. You could be one of Uncle Percy’s Pierrots.’