A True Love of Mine

by Margaret Thornton

  ‘I’m sorry…’ He glanced round at them all with a sad sort of smile. ‘Your family has already had a lot to bear, and we must make sure that no one else succumbs to this wretched illness.’ He turned to Isaac. ‘What I’m going to suggest, Mr Moon, is that you should have a full-time nurse to come and live in, then your son can be cared for night and day. Just to be on the safe side, you understand. I can make all the arrangements if you wish. In fact, I know just the lady.’

  ‘Thank you, doctor,’ said Isaac gruffly, tears of gratitude welling up in his eyes. He blinked rapidly. ‘Aye, that seems like a champion idea. And never mind t’ cost. Whatever it is it dun’t matter. We’ve got to get the lad right again.’

  Bella had the good sense to keep quiet. She knew that to say anything at all would make her look foolish. And when she thought about it logically she knew that she would never have been allowed to look after William. An unmarried woman who was not even a nurse? It would be considered most improper. But why, she wondered now, had they not thought of employing a nurse to look after Clara? If they had done so, she might still be alive today… If only…if only…

  The thoughts in Bella’s muddled mind were running away in all directions. She was losing control of herself again. No one was paying any heed to her, standing there in the doorway. The best thing she could do was to steal away quietly. Only Maddy glanced at her, then just as quickly looked away again, as she crept into the hallway and reached for her coat and hat.

  Back in her own room she put a match to the fire she had lit earlier that day, then sat down, still in her outdoor clothes, to wait for the room to warm up. Of course she could not have nursed William; that had been a stupid idea. But she could, perhaps, do other things… When he started to feel a little better she could make appetising broths and tempting little delicacies, to coax his appetite back to normal. Then she frowned with irritation as she remembered how William had said that they were going to employ a housekeeper who would clean and cook for them as well. She must think of something, though – anything – to bring her closer to William again.

  The nurse turned out to be a middle-aged woman, red-faced, bustling and rather bossy. A real old harridan, thought Bella, like a character out of a Dickens novel. But her no-nonsense approach did the trick. William was confined to bed for several days as the influenza took its course, but once on his feet again he made a good recovery.

  During his absence Isaac had been obliged to engage another assistant. Joe Black was a young man who had come on loan from another firm, but had then decided to stay with the Moons. As this was agreeable to his previous employers it was settled amicably. But what was really needed was a woman to assist with the home visits, to take over the duties at which Clara had excelled.

  William returned to work early in March and he soon realised that Clara had been – almost – indispensable to them. He qualified his thoughts with the word ‘almost’, because he knew that no one could be entirely indispensable. Didn’t death prove that time and time again? ‘Aye, the graveyard’s full of indispensable folk,’ his father was fond of saying. William missed Clara more than he could ever reveal to anyone. But life had to go on. That was a cruel cliché but such a true one. And so did the whole business of death in which they were involved.

  He advertised in the local paper and in the window of their own shop for a suitable woman to assist with some aspects of the undertaking business. Bella, on reading the advert, remembered something that Polly had said to her a little while ago. Would she be helping Mr Moon with the ‘laying out’ jobs, she had wanted to know, like Mrs Moon had done? And Bella had scoffed at the idea. ‘Of course not! Don’t be silly…’ And then she had thought about it afterwards…

  She thought about it now. Why not? she thought. She had become, once again, nothing but an employee of the Moon family; in charge of the shop, to be sure, but what did that really mean? Not a great deal; certainly not the involvement with the family – with William – that she had wished for. Well, she could but ask. She could offer her services and try to convince him that it would be a very good move.

  And, indeed, William seemed to think so too. He agreed, surprisingly quickly, to give it a try.

  Bella has changed, thought William. He could see no reason now to fear her presence in his life. What had been between them was in the past, the dim and distant past. He hardly ever thought about it now, and neither, he was sure, did Bella. He had never failed to be surprised at the way in which his beloved Clara had coped with the sometimes unpleasant aspects of their business. If she had been repulsed then she had not allowed it to show. But then Clara had been able to tackle all things in her own loving and sympathetic way. Bella was a very different kettle of fish. He gave a wry smile at the aptness of the idiom. But if his lovely gentle Clara could adapt to it then Bella would most certainly be able to do so.

  A picture flashed into his mind. He could see Bella as he had seen her that very first time, expertly gutting the herrings, the sharp blade cutting through the flesh and the bloody mess of the entrails being flung into the waste bucket. Yes, Bella would be ideal for the job.

  Chapter Twenty

  ‘Oh, it’s fun to be here at the seaside,

  It’s good to be down by the sea…’

  Maddy was a little surprised to find herself joining in so readily with the Pierrots’ opening song, along with Jessie at her side.

  She had not felt like singing at all, for ages after her mother had died. But then gradually, as the winter turned to spring and then to summer her sadness had started to ease a little. She began to look forward to events that she had imagined she would never he able to enjoy without Mam there to share them with. And it was true that a few nice things had happened.

  Her eleventh birthday in June had been a happy occasion. She had had a tea party and invited four girls from her class at school, two of them being also in her Sunday school class. Aunty Louisa had made the sandwiches and cakes and trifles, and iced a special birthday cake, just as her mother had used to do. The girls considered themselves too grown up now to play the usual party games of ‘hunt the thimble’ or ‘blind man’s buff’ and so, instead, they had sung songs round the piano.

  This was a recent acquisition to the Moon household. Maddy guessed it had been purchased at her grandfather’s insistence. She had overheard a few conversations between her father and grandfather. She had sat on the stairs one night when they imagined her to be tucked up in bed, listening to what they were saying…

  ‘That little lass needs bringing out of herself, Will lad.’ That had been Grandad’s voice. ‘You remember how she allus used to be singing, all over t’ house? Well, I’ve nivver heard her sing at all not since…well, not since…you know when.’

  ‘I don’t suppose she feels she has much to sing about, Father? Do any of us?’

  ‘No, happen not… But I tell you what, Will, speaking for meself, it does me a power of good to sing me heart out on a Sunday morning along wi’ t’ rest o’ t’ congregation.’ He had started to sing then, his voice a little croaky, but perfectly in tune…

  ‘My chains fell off, my heart was free;

  I rose, went forth and followed Thee…

  ‘Aye – “And Can it Be”; a grand old hymn, that ’un; one of Charles Wesley’s best. It fair lifts yer spirits.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve missed our little Maddy singing meself, I must admit,’ she heard her father answer. ‘She’s a lot quieter too. You know what a little chatter-box she used to be. But I dare say she opens up a bit when she’s with her school friends.’

  ‘She needs summat else though; summat to take her mind off things, like… D’you know, I’ve often thought we should get a piano. I wonder why you didn’t get one for your Clara? She liked a nice tune, didn’t she?’

  ‘So she did, but she couldn’t play the piano, and neither could I. I never learnt, and Clara never had the chance, did she, as a girl? Her parents were very poor. Aye, mebbe it’s something we could have done, but
we didn’t, and it’s too late now.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know about that,’ said her grandfather. ‘It’s never too late… I used to be able to pick out a tune meself, when I were a lad…’

  Maddy had not heard any more just then, but she was not surprised when, a few weeks later, towards the end of April, a piano had been delivered to their home. Not a new one of course. She learnt that it had been bought from one of the old ladies at the chapel. Her two sons brought it round on a large trap pulled by a pony, and then the two men, with her father and Patrick helping, had pushed it through the back door and into its special place in the living room where it could get the light from the window. It was made of golden-brown walnut with a fancy pattern in the grain, and a cut-away design on the front showing panels of dark red velvet.

  When Grandad had picked out a tune with one hand it had sounded rather tinny, but he decided that a good tuning would soon put that right, and so it did.

  ‘Aye, that’s champion now,’ he had said, sitting down on the round red velvet stool which the old lady had included with the deal. He played with one hand, singing along at the same time,

  ‘Amazing grace, how sweet the sound

  That saved a wretch like me…’

  ‘That’s clever, Grandad,’ said Maddy. ‘D’you think I could have a go? I’d like to be able to play tunes.’

  ‘Well now, I’ll tell you summat,’ he replied. ‘That’s the reason we’ve got this ’ere piano, so as you can learn to play. To play properly, I mean. Would you like to have piano lessons, Maddy?’

  She had already guessed that that might be the reason for the purchase. She nodded enthusiastically. She had not felt so pleased about anything not since…not since her mam had died. ‘Yes, please,’ she said. ‘I really would.’

  ‘Well, that’s champion then,’ said Grandfather.

  He was never one to let the grass grow beneath his feet. Before the week was out he had found a teacher – another of the chapel ladies – who gave piano lessons in between looking after her husband and her elderly mother. She was called Mrs Rafferty and Maddy knew her by sight. She was a plumpish comfortable-looking lady who sang in the choir on a Sunday morning and always wore a maroon felt hat trimmed with black petersham ribbon, a ‘no-nonsense’ sort of hat. All the choir ladies kept their hats on, and the men – there were six man and six women – wore their ordinary suits. They did not have a special uniform like they did in some churches.

  Anyway, Mrs Rafferty turned out to be an excellent teacher and Maddy an eager and responsive pupil. Before a few weeks had passed she was able to play simple tunes, using both her hands, and Mrs Rafferty said she showed a very good grasp of what she called ‘the rudiments of music’. She was learning about sharps and flats and key signatures, and how many beats there were in a bar, and what all those grand-sounding Italian words meant; crescendo and diminuendo, largo, adagio and allegretto. Her teacher had found a book that had a lot of simple tunes in it; a selection of hymn tunes, light classical pieces, traditional songs and folk songs from all parts of the British Isles.

  Maddy’s friends had looked on in admiration as she had played ‘Drink to me Only’, ‘Golden Slumbers’ and ‘Dashing Away with the Smoothing Iron’. They had learnt those and lots of others from their school National Song books and were able to sing along with her. Then Grandfather Isaac had his turn as well; he spent almost as much time at the piano as Maddy did. And so to please him they sang, ‘Jesus shall reign where e’er the sun’, and ‘Eternal Father strong to save’, hymns that Isaac recalled singing as a lad and which were still sung in day schools as well as in churches and chapels.

  ‘Aye, music can be a great comfort, Maddy love, a real solace,’ Grandfather had quite often said to her since they acquired the piano. She thought she understood what he meant.

  For a little while, as she watched the Pierrots performing on the stage she almost forgot about her sadness. Not that she would ever be able to forget her mam and never would she want to, but she had grown used to the sadness being a part of her. But what people had told her, that it would get easier in time, was beginning to be true. She actually found herself laughing out loud a couple of times at Uncle Percy and the man called Pete – the one who was the ‘bottler’ – as they went through the antics of their comic song, ‘There’s a Hole in my Bucket’. Of course she had heard it before, but it seemed funnier than ever with Pete scratching his head in a gormless way and Percy getting cross with him.

  Jessie turned and grinned at her at the end of the first half, ‘That was great, wasn’t it? Just as good as they were last year, aren’t they?’

  ‘Mmm…yes, I think so,’ replied Maddy. ‘They’ve got a new act though, haven’t they? Those singers…’

  ‘Didn’t you like them?’

  ‘Well… I dunno really,’ said Maddy. ‘I don’t think they’re quite what my mam would have called “our cup of tea”.’ She lowered her voice, adding in a whisper, ‘I think she fancies herself a bit, don’t you, that Queenie? And her voice wobbles when she sings the high notes, did you notice?’

  Jessie nodded. ‘And it’s not all that wobbles, is it? You could see…well, you know…her chest wobbling.’ She pointed vaguely at the area above her own waist and they both started to giggle. ‘We shouldn’t be unkind, though,’ Jessie went on. She was really a very kind-hearted girl.

  ‘No, we shouldn’t,’ agreed Maddy. ‘She’s probably very nice. And her husband seems all right. Not as – er – loud as she was. D’you think he is her husband?’

  ‘Oh, I should think so,’ said Jessie. She read out from the programme, a new innovation introduced that year. ‘Carlo and Queenie entertain you with songs old and new… Yes, I should think they’re married. They might appeal more to the older folk though, like my mother and your…father and grandfather.’

  ‘Yes, Grandad came to watch the show – he’s only been once though – and he said he liked them.’

  ‘And did your father go as well?’

  ‘No,’ said Maddy briefly. ‘I don’t think he really wants to go anywhere yet without…well, you know… Come on, let’s go and get an ice-cream, shall we? I don’t think anybody will pinch our seats.’

  It was a Wednesday morning during the first week in August. The Barraclough family had arrived on Saturday; that was to say Faith and the four children. There had been no mention of Mr Barraclough when Faith had called to see the Moon family on Sunday afternoon, accompanied by Jessie, Tommy and Tilly. Samuel had taken the opportunity to go fishing, rather to Maddy’s disappointment. In fact, she had not seen him yet.

  Her father had given her permission to meet Jessie today, and she knew there would be various other times when some of them, or all of them, might meet together. But although she would not have been able to put it into words or explain it to herself she knew there might be some sort of problem now, because her father no longer had a wife, and Mrs Barraclough…well, she did not seem to have a husband, at least not one who was living in the family home. She had asked Jessie if her father would be visiting them in Scarborough, but she had answered evasively, ‘We hardly ever see him these days. I think he’s living in another house in York, but Mother doesn’t tell me very much.’ And Jessie sounded as though she wasn’t really all that bothered about him either.

  Maddy tried to help out more in the house now, although her father did not expect too much of her. She kept her own room tidy, helped with the washing-up, made the breakfasts, and gave Mrs Brewster a hand with the meals when it was needed. Mrs Brewster was another of the chapel ladies who had been coming in to see to things for them ever since Dad had been taken ill at the funeral.

  Maddy had insisted that she was quite capable and old enough herself to see to the family breakfast each morning; cereal and toast on weekdays and possibly bacon, eggs and fried bread on a Sunday. She felt proud that she was able to do this; she had watched and helped her mother often enough and knew to be careful with the gas and naked flames. Mrs Brewster ca
me later in the morning when she had seen to her own family’s breakfast. She washed up and tidied around, thoroughly ‘bottoming’ each room in its turn, as she called it. Washing was not a problem as the Moon family had always sent most of their household linens to the laundry, with Clara being a working housewife. Mrs Brewster also prepared a snack lunch each day, usually sandwiches and soup, which Maddy could warm up when she came home from school; and she returned later in the afternoon to prepare their evening meal. This was often a casserole dish or a hotpot, ready for Maddy to pop into the oven, with a rice pudding, fruit tart or a crumble for ‘afters’.

  She soon proved to be worth her weight in gold, as the saying went. She had insisted right from the start, however, reasonably enough, that Saturday and Sunday were her days off. And so fish and chips, or steak pudding and chips with mushy peas, from the shop round the corner in Castle Road, soon became the order of the day for Saturday, for a lunchtime meal.

  And Louisa, of her own accord, had decided that she would take care of the Sunday dinner, always eaten in the middle of the day, promptly at one o’clock. Sunday had always been a lonely sort of day for Louisa. She had sometimes been invited along to the Moons’ for dinner or tea, but she had never wanted to overdo her visits and be regarded as a nuisance. But now she felt that she really could help them and it was the least she could do for the family of her dear Clara. She shopped on Saturday afternoon for a nice joint of meat – pork, lamb or beef, whichever took her fancy – and vegetables from the Market Hall. She then took her purchases round to the Moons’ place and she and Maddy prepared the meal in readiness for the following day; topping and tailing the carrots and sprouts, peeling the potatoes, and putting the joint in the coolest place in the larder, covered with a square of muslin.