A True Love of Mine

by Margaret Thornton

  ‘Aye, “Scarborough Fair”,’ said Isaac. ‘You couldn’t have chosen a better song. And the audience’ll love it, you’ll see.’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  It seemed to Bella that whenever she set foot in the Moon’s family living room Maddy was playing the piano, and sometimes singing along to the melody. This was usually in the late afternoon when she and William, or sometimes Patrick, had returned from one of their bereavement visits. If it had been a ‘laying out’ job Bella could not wait to get to her own rooms to wash away the odour of death from her hands and person. She felt that its miasma clung to her, although she realised that it could well be her imagination. Sometimes, though, if they had only been discussing funeral arrangements with the bereaved family, there were details to be finalised back at home. On those occasions Bella would be offered a cup of tea, although she had never, not even once since Clara died, been invited to stay and have a meal with them.

  Maddy was still behaving coolly towards her, but Bella felt that the utter dislike and suspicion that had been so apparent at the time of Clara’s death had now gone from the girl’s eyes. There were times when they had no option but to speak to one another, and they did so politely but with little feeling.

  Bella recognised the song, ‘Scarborough Fair’, that Maddy was playing and singing on that afternoon in August, oblivious to the rest of the people in the room. She had not looked round to greet her father and Bella when they came in and neither was she paying any heed to Patrick and Isaac, who were ensconced in easy chairs, having finished their work for the day.

  ‘Hush a minute now, Maddy love,’ said William gently, ‘if you don’t mind. It’s coming on nicely, though, is your song. Happen you can give us a performance later, eh? But now… I wonder if you could make us all a cup of tea, please? We’ve got something important to discuss, y’see; business matters. And I’m expecting Miss Phipps to join us as well, any minute now.’

  ‘All right,’ agreed Maddy cheerfully, not showing any reluctance to do as her father requested.

  Miss Muriel Phipps, the ‘second-in-command’ from the store, arrived almost at once, greeting everyone with a brief smile and a nod, in her usual diffident manner. It was a Wednesday afternoon, when the shop was closed for the half day. When Maddy returned some five minutes later she politely handed round the tea and biscuits and then sat herself down at the side of the room.

  William had gathered them all together to discuss the future of Moon’s Mourning Modes. He told them how he felt that they needed a more forward-looking image for the new century and the reign of a new monarch, King Edward the Seventh.

  ‘We have provided a service in the town,’ he said, ‘but I feel now that perhaps we should not be concerned solely with death and bereavement, but with other aspects of life as well. I know that my dear wife – God bless her – was having thoughts in that direction, and it’s partly for her sake that I would like to do this. She had been trying to introduce other colours – pale blues and mauves and lilac – instead of the deep funereal black. And I think we could go even further.’

  ‘Other aspects of life?’ said Miss Phipps. Bella was finding her to be a forceful character – in a quiet way – despite her prim and seemingly stand-offish appearance. ‘You mean…birth, marriage…and death? That is what life is, is it not? In a nutshell, one might say.’

  ‘Something like that,’ agreed William. ‘But nothing too drastic, not to begin with.’

  ‘No, indeed,’ said Bella. ‘We wouldn’t want a window full of bridal gowns, for instance. That would be too blatant. We must aim to be discreet.’

  ‘We would do it all gradually, of course,’ said William. ‘We can’t go making radical changes overnight.’

  ‘I don’t see why we have to change at all,’ said Isaac. ‘Folks know what we stand for in this town. They come to us for their mourning clothes when somebody dies: a new black frock or a coat or whatever. They’ve got used to us being here… But I’ll not stand in yer way, of course, Will. You know that, don’t you? The shop’s allus been your baby, like, yours and Clara’s, and I’ve left all t’ decisions to you. So I reckon if it was our Clara’s idea…well then, it must’ve been a good ’un. You’ll still stock funeral stuff though, won’t you? But happen not as much…’

  ‘Yes, that’s right, Father,’ replied William. ‘But I want us to think of a new name, instead of Moon’s Mourning Modes. Has anybody got any ideas?’

  They were all thoughtful for a few moments. Then Bella said, ‘How about…Moon’s Modes for all Occasions? Or…Moon’s Modes for all Seasons. Yes, I think that sounds better.’

  ‘Mmm…’ William put his head to one side, frowning just a little. ‘Moon’s Modes for all Seasons,’ he repeated. ‘Yes, I like that. It has a good ring to it… Well done, Bella.’

  ‘Aye; I must admit I quite like the sound o’ that,’ said Isaac, to Bella’s surprise.

  She was delighted to know that they all agreed to the new name, and William decided that the first thing to be done was to have the shop sign altered. Then they would put an advertisement in the local paper to tell clients about the future developments in their business and the new variety of their merchandise.

  They would soon need to be thinking about clothes for autumn – almost at once, in fact – and then for the Christmas season. It was necessary to be always one season ahead of themselves. They discussed the warehouses they used in York and Leeds. And William reminded them that they must not forget Louisa Montague, who had always supplied a goodly number of their smaller garments.

  Isaac and Patrick wandered away when the talk no longer concerned them, and Maddy, also, got up and took the tea things into the kitchen. William followed her. He re-entered the room a few moments later to tell Bella and Muriel Phipps that they were invited to stay and share the family’s evening meal, if they wished to do so. He had ascertained from his daughter that it was something that would ‘stretch’: a shepherd’s pie which Mrs Brewster had prepared earlier. She always made far more than enough and Maddy had said she could eke it out with extra carrots and swede.

  Bella was astonished at the invitation, but she did not let her surprise show as she answered, politely, that she would be pleased to stay; and Muriel answered in the same vein. It was a step in the right direction, thought Bella, one for which she had been waiting a long time; her pleasure was somewhat marred, though, by the fact that Miss Phipps had also been invited. But her thoughts soon took her in another direction as she started to imagine visits to warehouses, just herself and William, with Muriel left in charge of the shop…

  At the present moment, however, she knew that she should offer to help Maddy who had been landed with the task of organising the meal for six of them, no mean feat for an eleven-year-old girl. She decided to act as though there was nothing strange at all about her offering to help. She and Maddy had worked together preparing the meals during the time that Clara was ill in bed. But she hastily pushed those memories away as she went into the kitchen.

  ‘May I help?’ she asked cheerily. ‘You’ve got some unexpected guests, haven’t you? So the least I can do is to come and give you a hand.’ Maddy turned away from the stove, where she was putting the plates to warm on the rack, and looked at her; not speaking at first, just…looking.

  ‘What shall I do then?’ Bella went on. ‘Set the table? Or do you need some more vegetables doing?’ She feared, for a moment, that the girl was going to refuse her offer and say politely – or otherwise – that she didn’t need any help.

  But after a few seconds she said, though not with a great deal of enthusiasm, ‘Yes, thank you. You could set the table…Aunty Bella. There are six of us. You know where the knives and forks are, don’t you? And we’ll need spoons as well. There’s some apple crumble that Mrs Brewster made; I’ve put it in the oven to warm up… Oh dear!’ She put her hand to her mouth. ‘We’ll need some custard, won’t we?’

  She looked so worried at that moment, a little girl with a flowe
red apron that was far too big for her tied around her middle, that Bella felt sorry for her, and a stab of something that might almost be affection.

  ‘You’ve got a tin of custard powder, haven’t you?’ she asked. ‘Bird’s custard?’

  ‘Yes, there’s one in the cupboard.’

  ‘Then I’ll see to it,’ said Bella. ‘It’s quick and easy to make. I’ll have it done before you can say “Jack Robinson”. I’ll set the table first, then I’ll see to the custard. You’ve got enough milk in the pantry, have you?’

  ‘Yes, plenty,’ replied Maddy. ‘Er…thank you,’ she said again. ‘I’m usually all right. I can manage the meals perfectly well on me own,’ she went on decisively. ‘Well, after Mrs Brewster’s done the donkey work, I mean.’ She gave a half-smile. ‘That’s what Mam used to call it, donkey work. But it’s with having extra people, y’see.’

  ‘Of course; I understand,’ said Bella smiling at her. ‘I think you’re doing splendidly, really I do. And we’ll manage this lot between us, no trouble at all.’

  Maddy nodded. ‘I think I’ll open a tin of peas an’ all,’ she said. ‘Marrowfat peas. Our Patrick likes them and so does Grandad, and it’ll make the rest of the veg go further…’

  It was almost as though there had never been any constraint between them, thought Bella; but she knew she must go steadily with Maddy to win back the girl’s confidence.

  ‘That was a nice song you were singing,’ she said cautiously as they worked along, together yet silently, after that initial burst of conversation.

  ‘“Scarborough Fair”? Mmm…yes,’ agreed Maddy.

  ‘Are you practising for something special?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Maddy, a trifle abruptly, and Bella wondered if that was all she was going to say. Then, after a few seconds’ pause she continued, though not exactly in a friendly manner, ‘I’m going in for a talent contest, at the Pierrot Show. It’s next Wednesday afternoon.’

  ‘Oh…that’s nice,’ said Bella, being careful not to enthuse too much. ‘Can anybody come to listen?’

  ‘S’pose so,’ said Maddy, with a show of indifference.

  ‘It’s lucky then that it’s my half day off. D’you think I could come and see the show?’ asked Bella.

  Maddy shrugged. ‘If you like,’ she said.

  The menfolk and Miss Phipps were profuse in their praise of the shepherd’s pie and apple crumble that was set before them. During the course of the meal Isaac told everyone about the song that Maddy had been singing and how she was entering for the talent contest. ‘An’ I’m just wondering if she’d like to give us a performance when we’ve finished eating?’ he said, smiling coaxingly at his granddaughter. ‘It’d be good practice, like, for you, Maddy love, singing for an audience. Only a little ’un though, not as many as there’ll be next week.’

  But Maddy could not be persuaded. In fact she was adamant in her refusal. ‘You can come next Wednesday if you like,’ she told them, ‘but you’ll have to wait till then.’ For some reason, that she could not even explain to herself, she had suddenly gone all shy at the thought of singing in front of the members of her own family, plus the other two, of course. But, funnily enough, the idea of singing in the open air on the beach, with a much bigger audience, held no fears for her at all; at least, not at the moment.

  ‘Leave her alone,’ said William sympathetically. ‘They’ll have to wait, won’t they, Maddy love? Anyroad, you can all come if you’ve a mind next Wednesday. And we’ve nowt much on at the moment, have we, Father? So with a bit of luck we’ll all be there.’

  ‘And Jessie and all her family as well,’ added Maddy.

  ‘Oh yes, that’s right,’ said William. ‘Our friends, the Barracloughs, who are over from York.’ He looked towards Bella. ‘You remember Faith, don’t you, Bella? You met her last summer, and she was at…at the funeral.’

  ‘Yes, I remember…’ said Bella in a voice that was devoid of expression.

  After she had helped Maddy to clear the table and to wash up, with the willing assistance of Muriel Phipps as well, Bella was glad to return to the privacy of her own rooms. She had a lot to think about.

  The proposed expansion of the store had come as good news to Bella. Perhaps now she would be able to broach with William the subject of her role in the business. She knew that she had jumped in with both feet on realising that William would need a female assistant for the undertaking work, without giving due thought to what might be involved. Whatever it was, she had convinced herself that she would be able to cope with it. But she had been unprepared for the abhorrence she was to feel at her first sight of a dead body and her experience of the work involved in the laying-out process. She told herself that she would get used to it; that it was early days and she had to give herself a chance to grow accustomed to the unpleasant, and what she considered to be gruesome, tasks. But, alas, she had never got used to it.

  She had never been a squeamish person. In her days as a herring girl she had never flinched at the job of gutting the fish and had become used to the sight of blood and slime and mess. Her upbringing, too, in the small cottage in Morpeth, where she had lived cheek by jowl with her parents and her younger siblings, had been far from salubrious. From an early age she had been acquainted with the process of childbirth, and the sight of a red and wriggling newborn baby, just out of the womb, had never filled her with revulsion. Indeed, she had once witnessed, when the next but youngest child had been born, the whole process, from her hiding place behind the bedroom door, unbeknown to her father who had been skulking downstairs. At the time she had had no doubt, either, as to how the child came to be in the womb in the first place. She had oftentimes listened to the sounds coming from her parents’ bedroom and had put two and two together. She had seen animals coupling on the nearby farms and guessed that the process with humans was similar.

  She had had little experience of death, though, but had blithely imagined that she would be able to cope with that as easily as she did with most other things. She remembered telling William, on first learning that he was an undertaker, that she had seen a few dead bodies in her time and that she was not squeamish. But it was not strictly true.

  She had seen her mother’s body, but by the time she had come back from her work at the big house her mother had been prepared for burial and laid out in her coffin. And on another earlier occasion she had been taken by her mother to view the body of an old lady, a good neighbour, who had passed away. The viewing of the body was a custom to which even children were accustomed, but it had all been very clean and respectable. Bella had remembered, though, the sickly-sweet smell that had pervaded the atmosphere, not entirely due to the profusion of flowers in the room.

  It had been a rude awakening, therefore, when she had accompanied William earlier that year to assist with the laying out of a middle-aged woman. She had felt shamefully embarrassed as she had watched William ease away the nightclothes in which the woman had died to reveal the naked limbs and torso. But he had done it all so reverently and gently, and then had persuaded Bella to wash down the body in the warm water from the bowl provided by the woman’s daughter. She had tried not to show her revulsion at the task. After all, it was more fitting that she, another woman, should do this rather than William; although the poor woman was now what was known as a corpse, rather than a living and breathing female person.

  Bella had not known, either, about the expulsion of bodily fluids, which was one of the first things to occur following death. The first time she had experienced this she had been unable to disguise her distaste, but William had dealt with it swiftly and competently and assured her it was something she would get used to. But she never had.

  She well remembered an instance when she had been with Patrick, not his father. The body was that of an old lady and Bella had turned away for a moment to fill the bowl on the washstand from the kettle of warm water. Suddenly there was a groan from the body, ‘Aaargh…’ which made her shout out in fright and almost drop the ket
tle.

  ‘She’s still alive!’ she gasped. ‘Patrick, do something… Go and tell them…’

  To her amazement Patrick was laughing, not uproariously, but chuckling quietly to himself. ‘No, she’s not,’ he said. ‘She’s dead all right…poor old soul,’ he added. ‘Is it the first time you’ve seen that happen?’

  ‘Yes, it must be,’ whispered Bella, white-faced and shaken.

  ‘It’s the last breath of air being expelled from the lungs,’ said Patrick. ‘Aye, it gave me a shock an’ all the first time I heard it. You’ll get used to it, don’t worry.’

  But she never had. She knew now, in fact she had very soon realised, that this side of the business was not her cup of tea at all. She had tried, but with all the will in the world she could not get used to it. Now, with the expansion of the retail trade, she knew it was time to point out to William that she would be much better employed concentrating on her position as manageress of Moon’s Modes for all Seasons. She had gained her experience in the gown trade years ago when she had worked with Madame Grenville, alias Maud Green. Who better, then, than she, Bella, to locate and check out new warehouses for the purchase of their more varied stock? It would mean, of course, that she would not longer be able to accompany William on his home visits, but she was sure he would understand. And if he could be persuaded to take more part in the transactions at the warehouses…

  Bella was unable to sleep that night. She found that the words and the melody of the song that Maddy had been singing were going round and round in her head. She had not heard all of it, but it was a song that she had known since girlhood, and one phrase in particular had struck a chord with her.

  ‘…Remember me to one who lives there,

  For once he was a true love of mine.’

  Yes, there had once been a time when she and William Moon had been lovers. Had she really believed for a while that he was her true love, or was the passage of the years lending enchantment to the scene? They had been happy and carefree together during those summer months when she had been working at the harbour. Yes, she had loved him. She had never met anyone quite like him before; so gentlemanly in his behaviour towards her, and yet there had been another side to him, a passionate nature which she had so easily awakened and brought to fruition. But he had let her down. He had been unable to face up to the result of their intimacy, and so they had parted.