‘Do you really think so?’ asked William. He was stunned to think that Bella had been moved to take such drastic action because of her feelings for him. Patrick did not know about the suicide bid, although William had told his father about it. ‘I had no idea…’
‘There’s none so blind as those who won’t see,’ commented Isaac. ‘Aye, that’s my opinion an’ all. It was all too much for her…poor lass,’ he added. ‘I was never all that fond of her, but I hope she makes out all right.’
‘I’m glad really,’ Maddy said when she, too, heard that Bella had gone. ‘I didn’t like her all that much. I think she caused a lot of trouble,’ she added.
She saw Patrick frown at her across the table, shaking his head slightly. She got the message. He didn’t want her to mention about what she had seen that time. As if she would be so stupid! But now Bella had gone and she wouldn’t need to think about her anymore. ‘I mean…she was bossy, wasn’t she?’ she added. ‘Perhaps we won’t ever see her again…’
Probably not, thought William. Just as suddenly as she had reappeared in Scarborough some sixteen years ago, so had Bella Randall disappeared again.
Chapter Twenty-Six
It was on a Saturday afternoon in late September, 1905, when a young dark-haired woman alighted from the train at Scarborough Station and hailed a hansom cab to take her to North Marine Road. It was her first visit to the resort, but she knew where she was going; to the undertaking premises of Isaac Moon and Son. It had been described to her as a substantial-looking house, with the workshop and stabling and small office at the back, and, next door, a high-class store, Moon’s Modes for all Seasons.
She stood on the pavement, her small holdall at her side, and surveyed the property in front of her. Her eyes were drawn to the store; to the window with sombre, but stylish mourning wear, and to the second window in which were displayed garments of rather brighter hues; autumn shades of russet, deep gold and olive green. Well worthy of a browse around, she decided, in a little while maybe. But first things first…
It was obvious that there had been some changes over the past few years. The house that had been described to her now had a large plate-glass window at the front with purple drapes on either side. There were a few vases and urns on show, suitable for placing on graves, and in the centre an eye-catching display of mauve and white chrysanthemums. Through the window she could see that the downstairs premises must have been converted to an office, and seated behind a long mahogany counter was a man with dark hair, busily writing in a ledger. From his age she guessed that this must be William Moon.
The young woman picked up her bag, took a deep breath and opened the door. The bell gave a quiet jingle and the man looked up from his work.
William Moon gasped at the sight of the young woman who had just entered. His pen dropped from his hand, causing a splodge of ink to fall on the white page, and he felt himself blanch. He half rose from his chair. ‘Bel…’ he began. Then as he came to his senses, ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Of course it isn’t. Please forgive me, miss…madam. For a moment I thought you were someone else.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ said the young woman, smiling at him in a most friendly way. ‘I am very much like her. You mistook me for Bella Randall, didn’t you?’
‘Well…yes. Just for a moment. But I can see now, of course, that you are much younger…’ His voice petered out as he started to realise who, in fact, this person might be.
He was not surprised therefore to hear her say, ‘I am Bella’s daughter. And you, I presume, are Mr William Moon?’
‘Yes, indeed I am,’ he replied in a quiet voice.
‘Then…please forgive me if I am wrong, but I have to find out.’ She was looking at him half-pleadingly, half-apologetically. ‘According to what Bella told me, you are…my father.’
William gave a deep sigh as he gazed at her. She was Bella to the very life. The same dark curling hair, half hidden beneath a small-brimmed hat of natural straw, and the same dark flashing eyes. But he could tell at once that this young lady had a far different disposition from that of Bella. He was sure that she was kind and considerate and fair-minded and that he would have nothing to fear from her. So he had no qualms at all in answering her.
‘Yes, my dear; that is so. What Bella – your mother – told you is quite right. I am your father. And you…you must be Henrietta?’
‘Yes, Hetty; that’s what I’m usually called.’ She smiled and held out her hand. ‘I’m very pleased to meet you…at last.’
He took hold of her hand, holding on to it for a few moments. Then, ‘Come on through to the back,’ he said. ‘We’ll have a chat over a cup of tea. I’m here on my own. We usually close on a Saturday afternoon, but I had some work to finish so I left the door open. Very lucky that I did…’ He felt that he was babbling incoherently, but the young lady – Hetty – was nodding agreeably.
The kitchen at the rear was pretty much the same as it had always been. He invited Hetty to sit down, and she took off her hat and lightweight jacket whilst he made a pot of tea.
‘You have made some changes then?’ she asked, when they were both seated. ‘Bella told me that you lived here, on the premises.’
‘So we did,’ said William, ‘but I got married again two years ago and we needed more room. We bought a house over the other side of town, on South Bay, and this property has been given over, more or less, to the business. My son, Patrick, still lives here in the upstairs part. He is nineteen now and he likes his independence, and it means that there is someone here all the time to keep an eye on things. We still have our own two horses, but the way things are going they might soon be put out to grass.’ He smiled. ‘My father always said it would be over his dead body if we ever went on to those “new-fangled horseless carriages”; but we all have to move with the times.’
‘Your father? Is he still with you?’
‘If you mean is he still alive, then yes, he is, very much so. He’s almost retired though now. He lives with us, with me and my wife, Faith, and my daughter…’ He hesitated, looking at her a little ruefully. ‘You will know, I expect, that I have a younger daughter, Madeleine; Maddy, we call her. She lives with us most of the time. She is here at the moment, but she will soon be off travelling with the “Melody Makers”; that’s a group of entertainers she belongs to. She’s a singer; a very good one actually.’
‘And she is…how old?’
‘Maddy is fifteen. I thought she was too young at first to be away from home, on the road, as they say. But she has persuaded me to let her go this time. I wouldn’t do so if I didn’t trust the man in charge of the troupe. Percy Morgan; I know he’ll let no harm come to her.
‘And then there’s Jessie; she’s my wife’s daughter. She’s still at school, a private school in Scarborough; she’s the same age as Maddy. And the twins, the terrible twosome, I call them,’ he laughed. ‘Tommy and Tilly; they’re eight now.’
‘A big family then,’ Hetty observed. ‘And…do you all get on well together?’
‘Very well, surprisingly,’ said William. ‘I must tell you though… I loved my first wife, Clara, so very much. We had a very happy marriage and I will never forget her, neither will my children. But then… I met Faith. We found each other, you might say. She was in the throes of an unhappy marriage, so we had to wait. But it was all sorted out eventually. Faith’s elder son, Samuel, is away at university, so we see him only occasionally. He is the only one who might, possibly, be somewhat difficult… But that’s enough about me for the moment. Tell me about yourself, Hetty. Why did you decide to come to Scarborough? Now, I mean, rather than earlier? And…what about Bella? I guessed when she left here so suddenly that she might have gone to look for you.’
‘Yes, you’re right,’ said Hetty. ‘But I’m sorry to tell you that Bella died six months ago.’
‘Oh! Oh dear; I’m sorry to hear that,’ said William. He truly was sorry, but the thought came to him that she had not died alone. She had met som
eone who cared for her; he felt sure that she and Hetty must have established some sort of bond or she would not be here.
‘Yes, she died of pneumonia, following influenza,’ said Hetty. ‘But to begin at the beginning…’
She told William how Bella had travelled to Northumberland, starting and ending her search for her daughter in the town of Ashington. It was the place where she had last seen her, living with her adoptive parents and, fortunately for Bella, the place where Hetty was still residing.
‘My parents had both died a few months before,’ Hetty told him. She looked at William a trifle apologetically but her tone was positive. ‘They were really and truly my parents; Hilda and Simon Collier. I couldn’t have wished for a better mother and father, although they told me, when I was old enough to understand, that I had been adopted. It was pretty obvious anyway; I was so dark and they were both so fair.’
‘What happened to them?’ asked William. He was warming to this young woman more and more.
‘My da had a weak chest. That was why he worked in the office at the coal mine instead of going down the pit. He died of bronchitis in March, and then Mam was knocked down by a horse and cart a few weeks later. I’m afraid it was largely her own fault. She wasn’t looking where she was going; she was so distressed at losing my father.’
‘How very sad… So you were left on your own?’
‘Yes; I suppose you could say I’ve been lucky, in one way. My parents owned their house; only a little cottage but at least it was their own. And so it was left to me and I stayed there.’
‘You have a job, I suppose, Hetty?’
‘Yes…’ William noticed she said ‘yes’ and not the more usual ‘aye’ which was a word more often used in the Northumberland area. She had an accent that betrayed that she was a Geordie, along with her way of speaking of her father as ‘my da’; but William guessed that her parents had done their very best for her and that she had been brought up to speak correctly.
‘I have a good little job,’ she continued, ‘in the office at the coal mine, the same one where my da worked. I stayed at school till I was fifteen and then I had shorthand and typing lessons.’
‘So you have a job to go back to when—’ William stopped, not wanting her to think that he was anxious to see the back of her. ‘They know you’ve come down here, do they?’
‘Yes; I asked for a week’s leave of absence. Don’t worry,’ she grinned, ‘I won’t be moving in with you.’
William smiled at her. ‘You are most welcome to come and stay with us while you are here.’ He was realising that the time had come for him to be completely honest, with himself and with others, about his past. This had been forced upon him, sure enough, but he knew it was time to speak out. He knew that he must tell his son and daughter that they had an older sister, who was the daughter of Bella Randall. He had told Faith, however, before they were married, about his one-time friendship with Bella and about the child he had never seen. She had been surprised but very sympathetic.
‘That explains a lot,’ Faith had told him. ‘I realised she had tender feelings for you, although I would never have guessed at the extent of them. Poor Bella! It’s not so surprising then, is it, that she disappeared when you and I became…friendly.’
‘Tell me…’ William said now, putting his empty cup on the table and leaning forward to look keenly at Hetty. ‘What did Bella tell you about me? Don’t be afraid to say. I have lived with it all these years, thinking about what happened when you were…conceived. I know I behaved badly.’ He shook his head. ‘I was young; I couldn’t cope with the enormity of it all, although I know that is no excuse.’
Hetty was looking at him understandingly. ‘Bella – I always called her Bella, y’see; that was what she wanted; it wouldn’t have seemed right to call her Mam – Bella told me all about it, quite bluntly. She was that sort of person, wasn’t she? I knew at once who she was when she came knocking at my door that September day, three years ago. It was a shock for me though, as you can imagine.’
‘Just as it is for me now,’ said William. ‘A nice shock though,’ he added.
‘Anyway…she stayed; that’s the top and bottom of it. She had nowhere else to go and we found that we rubbed along together quite well. And bit by bit she told me her story…’
He knew it all, of course; how Bella had returned to Scarborough several years later and found out that the man she had once loved, and believed that she still loved, was married. She had told Hetty, quite openly it seemed, about her anger and bitterness at the time, and then how she had found happiness for a while with Ralph Cunningham.
William nodded. ‘And then she came to work for us at the shop. She had become quite friendly with Clara, my wife. One thing that I regret was that I was never completely honest with Clara about knowing Bella. In fact I wasn’t honest at all. I was very wary of Bella at first, I must admit, but it all seemed to work out quite well. She had a good job and a comfortable home. I believed she was quite content.’
‘But she was nursing a hopeless love for you…William,’ said Hetty. It was the first time she had addressed him by name. It seemed natural to him that she should call him William; he knew he could never be ‘Father’ and certainly not ‘Da’… ‘She admitted it, how she kept on hoping you might see her in a different light, and then Faith came along.’
‘Yes…Faith,’ said William quietly. ‘I told Faith about Bella before we were married, and about the child…you, my dear.’ He smiled at her. ‘I felt so guilty, you see, about never having told Clara, and I knew I had to start off with a clean slate, so to speak.’
‘Bella told me about her friendship with your wife,’ said Hetty. ‘How she was very fond of Clara in spite of everything. But there was something troubling her, and I never found out what it was. She mentioned Clara quite a lot, and then she would go on to say how badly she had behaved towards her… That would usually be when she had had a few drinks. I’m afraid I was never able to make her give up the whisky. There was something on her mind though…’
‘Maybe it was just that she was jealous,’ said William. ‘Clara and I were very close, it was a good marriage. Feelings of envy can take a hold of you and make you harbour bad thoughts, I suppose. I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, though. Bella always behaved correctly. She was a good help at the end when Clara was ill… And very distressed when she died. I really thought that any fondness she might have had for me had long gone. Poor Bella… And you say she died six months ago, of pneumonia?’
‘Yes, it was a bad winter, but then it usually is up in the north. She caught influenza, then it turned to pneumonia and she went very quickly after that, as though she had no resistance left. “It serves me right,” she kept saying. Almost the last thing she said was, “I’ve been a wicked woman, what I did to Clara…”’
‘Poor Bella,’ said William again. ‘She didn’t do anything except, perhaps, to feel envious. It’s only human nature to envy what another person has. But she had found you, Hetty, in the end. I’m glad about that.’
‘Yes…’ There was a tear in the corner of the young woman’s eye. ‘I was glad too,’ she said, ‘that I’d got to know her. “Thank you, Hetty,” she said to me, just before she died. “You’ve been a good daughter.” And that was the only time I called her Mam. I said, “That’s all right, Mam.” Then she smiled at me and closed her eyes.’
William’s eyes were moist, too, as he said, ‘Thank you for telling me, Hetty. It’s a chapter closed, but I hope it might be the start of another one.’
They took a cab later that afternoon across to the South Bay. Hetty, as was to be expected, was a little ill at ease, but no more so that William felt. ‘It will be all right,’ he assured her, with more confidence than he was feeling. ‘I have a lot of explaining to do, but it is time all secrets were out in the open.’
‘You mean…no one knows about me?’ asked Hetty.
‘My wife does,’ he replied, ‘as I told you. And my father knew a
bout my former friendship with Bella, and my son guessed. But not about…’
‘Not about me? Oh dear! Perhaps it might be better if you were on your own, William. I would hate to cause trouble.’
‘No…’ He patted her hand. ‘It will be all right. I promise.’
There was only Isaac at home, reading the newspaper in the sitting room. He looked up, and on seeing the young woman with his son he gave a startled exclamation.
‘Good God, it can’t be!’ He rose to his feet, scattering the pages of the newspaper far and wide and his glasses dropped to the end of his nose. ‘Bella… No, no, of course it isn’t. Oh dear, I’m sorry luv. My eyesight isn’t as good as it was.’
‘No, Father,’ said William, taking her arm and leading her right into the room. ‘You were almost right. This is Henrietta Collier. She is Bella’s daughter. And…she is my daughter, too,’ he added decidedly. ‘Hetty, this is my father.’
Isaac was rendered speechless, but only for a few seconds. He soon got over his shock and he didn’t, then, seem terribly surprised by the revelation. ‘Aye, I suppose I might’ve guessed,’ he said with a chuckle ‘And where have you sprung from, luv?’
Hetty laughed, not at all put out by his outspoken comment. And as for Isaac, he seemed charmed by his latest granddaughter. William began to feel easier. Faith and the two girls came in later, after a shopping expedition in the town, followed by Tilly and Tommy. Their reactions at seeing the newcomer and hearing her introduced as Bella’s daughter were mixed. The twins, as usual, took it all in their stride, and Jessie looked puzzled. But Maddy was the one that William was watching more closely. She stared at the newcomer, not rudely, but not all that welcomingly either. Faith, though, making up for all the others, smiled charmingly and held out her hand.
‘How do you do, Henrietta. You are very welcome.’
‘There is something else you should know,’ said William when they were all sitting down. ‘Henrietta – Hetty – is not only Bella’s daughter… She is my daughter as well, and I have met her for the first time today.’
A True Love of Mine Page 34