Comfort Me With Apples

by Comfort Me

  Anna agreed. ‘At least there’ll be a truce between Mama and Aunt Clara while he’s home,’ she said, smiling.

  Both girls were out when their father actually arrived but Clara opened the door to them, her face flushed with excitement. ‘He’s here,’ she said. ‘My brother’s here. We’re in the parlour.’

  Mrs Furlong lay on the sofa in a pretty tea gown and her husband sat near to her. He rose and came to greet the girls. ‘Annabel,’ he said as he kissed her, and ‘Dorothea,’ as he kissed Dorrie. He was the only person who used their full names, and hearing him they felt that he was really home at last.

  ‘You both seem much older than I expected,’ he said. ‘More grown up.’

  ‘It is two years, Father,’ Mrs Furlong said in a weak voice and he returned to sit beside her.

  ‘I know, my dear,’ he said gently. ‘I’m sorry to see you so frail. Can Dr O’Brien suggest nothing to help?’

  By chance, Mrs Furlong’s eyes met Anna’s and she said hastily, ‘Don’t let us talk about illness. Tell us about China. Were you in danger there?’

  ‘Only from thieves,’ he said. ‘I had to keep a watchman posted and keep as much as possible under lock and key. Always bowing and scraping, these orientals, but you have the feeling that secretly they despise us.’

  Anna was surprised by such a perceptive remark from her father and would have liked to ask him more about it but her mother was darting glances at her, as though she expected her to blurt something out about her illness, so she went with her aunt to the kitchen to help with the meal.

  Clara grumbled that she would like to stay with her brother but someone had to prepare the meal, but she was interrupted by the arrival of a seaman at the back door with Captain Furlong’s chest and bags.

  After dinner the gifts the captain had brought were distributed. A length of beautiful sapphire-blue silk for Dorrie, a length of shot silk for Anna, of lavender colour for her mother and a pale grey for Clara.

  After the first excitement her father had become withdrawn and silent but Anna felt that Dorrie was right. Her father did care for them. The carefully chosen dress lengths were evidence of that and he had also brought exquisite china ornaments, tortoiseshell combs and fans and soft leather gloves. Also crystallised fruit and a variety of nuts and strange preserved vegetables.

  ‘You’ve taken a lot of trouble for us, Brother,’ Clara said. ‘I hope the girls appreciate it.’

  ‘Of course we do,’ Anna said indignantly and Dorrie kissed her father’s cheek. ‘You know we do, don’t you Father?’ she said, and he smiled at her.

  ‘I’m glad you’re pleased,’ he said but Anna wondered whether he had noted her sharp reply to Aunt Clara. I’m sure he’ll hear plenty on that score before he leaves, she thought grimly.

  Captain Furlong had been shocked by the change in his wife and consulted Dr O’Brien as soon as possible. ‘I wondered about TB,’ he said tentatively but the doctor told him that his wife’s heart and lungs were sound.

  ‘But she looks so frail,’ the captain said. ‘I’m alarmed by the change in her since I was last ashore. Surely there must be some reason for it.’

  Dr O’Brien hesitated then said bluntly, ‘If you live the life of an invalid you soon become one. All your wife needs is fresh air and exercise and to be needed. I’ve tried to persuade her to leave that sofa but in the present situation I can’t.’

  Captain Furlong was puzzled. ‘What do you mean, the present situation?’ he asked sharply but he listened without speaking as the doctor explained.

  ‘Your sister’s a forceful character,’ he said. ‘When she came here your wife was quite ill and weak and very distressed. Quite unable to manage the house, so Miss Furlong took over. The trouble is that when your wife recovered she found there was no place for her. Your sister had taken complete charge and resented any interference in her regime. Your wife took the line of least resistance by continuing to be an invalid and this is the result.’

  ‘But my sister came here – What? Seven or eight years ago. When did this happen?’

  ‘No, no,’ Dr O’Brien said. ‘It didn’t happen suddenly. I told you the result and the reason for it but it was all very gradual. At first your wife did a little light dusting, arranged flowers, that sort of thing, but nothing stands still. As she got stronger she tried to run the house again and that your sister wouldn’t allow.’

  ‘Wouldn’t allow!’ Captain Furlong exclaimed. ‘That is my wife’s home. In my absence she runs it. I brought my sister here to help her, not to usurp her.’

  ‘None of it was planned,’ Dr O’Brien said. ‘They’ve simply drifted into this situation but something must be done. If your wife doesn’t leave that sofa soon she won’t be able to.’

  Captain Furlong had stood up and begun to walk up and down the room in his agitation. ‘Do you think my wife is well enough to manage if I move Clara to a place of her own?’ he asked.

  The doctor said quickly, ‘Probably, with help from your daughters, but there’s no need to be so drastic. Your wife and sister quarrel but it’s the breath of life to them. They need each other. Women!’

  He laughed but the captain still looked worried. ‘I’m only home for three weeks. I must take some steps,’ he said.

  ‘Do you mind a suggestion?’ Dr O’Brien asked.

  The captain shook his head. ‘You seem to understand the position,’ he said.

  ‘Why don’t you tell your wife that you’re surprised your sister does all the cooking. Remind her of a meal she used to cook and you enjoyed. Ask her to do it again.’

  ‘But would she be well enough?’ asked the captain.

  ‘She could sit on a chair and supervise the girls. She’s their mother and she should be the one training them to become good wives,’ said Dr O’Brien.

  He wondered whether he had gone too far when Captain Furlong shook hands with him and thanked him then suddenly departed. He told himself that he had done his best for the family but it was a relief to him to see Captain Furlong arriving at church in a cab with his wife and sister the following Sunday.

  Anna and Dorrie had walked down to church but when they returned home they all had the usual cup of tea then Captain Furlong saw his wife installed on a chair in the kitchen, with her two daughters in attendance, and went for a walk with his sister.

  Mrs Furlong had chosen a leg of pork for the meal. ‘Your aunt was against it,’ she said, ‘because there isn’t an R in the month. Nonsense! A fortnight ago she’d have thought it was all right because there’s an R in April.’

  ‘I suppose the origin of that is that May, June, July and August are summer months and hot,’ Anna said. ‘But as you say, Mama, this is the very start of summer.’

  At first Mrs Furlong was content to supervise, telling Anna to rub salt into the crackling and not to baste it, but soon she asked for bread and began to make breadcrumbs for the stuffing while Dorrie chopped onions. The girls were surprised to see her suddenly stand up and walk across the kitchen for a rolling pin to crush dried sage.

  ‘Mmm, that smells lovely already,’ Dorrie said, bending over the basin, and her mother said complacently, ‘It’s a family recipe. It was my mother’s and probably her mother’s too.’

  ‘You’ll have to show us, Mama, tell us the quantities so we can teach our daughters,’ Dorrie said with a giggle.

  ‘I’ll show you how to make proper apple sauce too,’ her mother promised. ‘Your aunt insists on mixing it with salt but I always use sugar. You’ll taste the difference.’

  When their father and aunt returned the table was laid and the meal almost ready and although Mrs Furlong was flushed and happy she was obviously tired. Her daughters urged her to rest while they put the finishing touches to the meal.

  ‘You don’t want to be too tired to eat, Mama,’ Dorrie said and Anna added, ‘No, you want to be able to enjoy seeing Father eat this meal. You’ve worked so hard.’

  Clara declared that she would go to the kitchen and do all th
at was necessary but she was stopped by her brother. ‘No, sit down, Clara,’ he said, ‘this is your day of rest. Adelaide will have instructed the girls,’ and with a smug smile at her sister-in-law Mrs Furlong willingly lay down on the sofa and fell asleep immediately, but only for a short time.

  The nap had refreshed her and she glowed at the compliments about the meal, although Clara’s were grudging. ‘These roast potatoes are perfect,’ Captain Furlong said. ‘Soft and floury inside and crisp outside, just as I like them. I wish you could train my Chinese cook to cook like this, Adelaide.’

  Anna had been responsible for the roast potatoes but she said quickly, ‘And the stuffing, Father. Isn’t it delicious? It’s a family recipe, Mama says, so she’s teaching it to Dorrie and me.’

  After the meal Clara went out to make some visits and Anna and Dorrie tactfully went for a walk, leaving their parents alone. As they walked along to Brunswick Road they saw James Hargreaves approaching and Anna said, ‘Now don’t be too encouraging, Dorrie. It’s not fair.’

  James Hargreaves raised his hat and the girls bowed but continued walking, although Dorrie could not resist smiling at him. James was elated by the meeting but Anna’s caution was unnecessary. Although he constantly wove fantasies about Dorrie he had no real hope that she would ever marry him.

  With his healthier lifestyle, his spots and plumpness had gone and he now appeared slim and smartly dressed, but mentally he still saw himself as his mother had described him. Fat, stupid and clumsy. The mental and emotional scars inflicted by his mother would take a long time to heal and he was still the nervous, diffident person he had always been.

  He had done nothing about selling the house or changing his job. He hated the cotton brokers but lacked the confidence to break away. Fortunately he rarely saw his uncle, who as general manager had his own office, but the office manager curried favour with him by constantly criticising James and every mistake was blamed on him, with the eager co-operation of the other clerks.

  Protests were useless and James, who knew he was a figure of fun to the younger clerks and that the older men took their cue from the manager, soon adopted an air of stolid indifference to hide his feelings. He had long ago erected a mental barrier against his uncle.

  He walked to work as usual on a crisp September morning, wishing he could stay outdoors to breathe the bracing air and dreading the day in the office. It was as bad as he feared.

  The office manager was a smarmy creature. His hair glistened with macassar oil, as did the points of his moustache, which he continually fingered. He began to find fault with James before he even reached his desk and continued at intervals throughout the day, frequently glancing over his shoulder to the office where James’s uncle sat in solitary state.

  Mid-afternoon he accused James of making a mistake which had been made before the document in question had even arrived on James’s desk. Normally James would have borne this abuse in silence but after all the other petty humiliations of the day suddenly it was too much.

  A vision of the bags of sovereigns and half-sovereigns rose before him and he thought grimly, I don’t have to take this. He seized a piece of paper and while the man was still ranting he rapidly wrote out his resignation and handed it over. ‘My resignation. I’m leaving,’ he said.

  While the manager was still bleating, ‘You can’t, you can’t,’ James’s uncle appeared.

  ‘What’s this?’ he demanded angrily.

  ‘I’m leaving,’ James said brusquely. For the first time in many years he made eye contact with his uncle and this so unnerved him that he brushed past him roughly without another word. When he reached the street he found he was shaking and turned into the small cafe where he had eaten his solitary lunch all his working life.

  Chapter Four

  James still found it hard to believe that he had found the courage to actually leave the office at last but he was trembling with reaction. He ordered hot sweet tea and toast and gradually became calmer. I don’t know what came over me, he thought, but I don’t care. If I can’t get an office job I’ll turn my hand to anything.

  He ordered more tea and when the cafe owner brought it he said curiously, ‘Don’t usually see you in at this time. Finished early have you?’

  ‘I’ve walked out on my job. Had enough,’ James said briefly.

  The cafe was empty and the man perched on a chair near him. ‘Go ’way!’ he said. ‘Got you down like, did it?’

  Suddenly James found himself telling the man what had happened and the background to it. ‘Relations!’ the man said with disgust. ‘They’re always the worst to work for. What’ll you do now?’

  ‘I don’t know and I don’t care,’ said James. ‘I’ve only got myself to keep.’

  A moment later the man said thoughtfully, ‘I know where there’s a job going. In a fruit importer’s. Young feller going to America and the job come up at the last minute so he’s sailing Friday. If you’re free to start right away you might have a chance.’

  ‘I won’t be able to get a reference,’ James said doubtfully.

  The cafe owner shrugged. ‘Worth a try,’ he said. ‘You’ve lost nothing if you don’t get it. It’s only five minutes’ walk away. Hackins Hey.’ He wrote the name of the firm and its manager and the address on a page from his order pad and handed it to James. ‘Good luck, lad,’ he said, coming to the door to watch him cross the street and turn into Hackins Hey.

  This was the oldest part of the city and Hackins Hey was narrow and dark, unchanged, it seemed, for centuries. James’s courage almost failed as he stumbled over the cobbles and up the twisting stairs to the office but he thought of the cafe owner’s words and went on.

  The manager was a quite middle-aged man and James gave details of his work in the cotton brokers then said nervously, ‘The general manager was a relative. We parted on bad terms so I won’t be able to get a reference.’

  The manager, Mr Morgan, smiled briefly and asked if he was free to start immediately. He gave James details of the hours and salary and said that in view of the lack of reference he would suggest a month’s trial, to which James eagerly agreed.

  He was introduced to the man whose place he was taking and he rattled off details of figures and documents so rapidly that James was bewildered. I’ll never do it, he thought despairingly, but as the clock struck six the man collected the papers together and departed.

  The man at the next desk stood up and held out his hand. ‘Henry Mortimer,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry. He tried to make the job seem more difficult than it is to make himself seem important.’

  One of the other men laughed. ‘Uncle Sam won’t know what’s hit him when Archie arrives,’ he said. ‘Mind you, he’ll probably meet his match there.’

  Henry introduced the man and others in the office and as they left he said quietly to James, ‘I’m sure you won’t have any difficulty but if you do at first I’ll be on hand to help.’

  James felt that he had made a friend and would enjoy working there. He went back to thank the cafe owner. ‘You’ll be all right there,’ the man said. ‘The feller what’s leaving – he wasn’t well liked. Big head and big mouth. Probably suit the Yanks.’

  Frances was delighted when she heard that he had finally left the brokers and found a new position. ‘You done well. I’m made up for you,’ she told him.

  When Frances had gone James’s feeling of euphoria gradually seeped away and he began to worry about whether he would be able to do the work. He spent a sleepless night, remembering all his mother’s comments about his stupidity, but he soon realised that his fears were groundless.

  The next day Henry Mortimer greeted him pleasantly and introduced him to the clerks he had not met the previous afternoon and James found the friendly atmosphere a striking contrast to the cotton brokers’ office. Quiet and diffident and always grateful for help which was freely given, he was popular, unlike his bumptious predecessor, and he settled in happily.

  At the end of the month he was told by
the manager, Mr Morgan, that his work was satisfactory and his position was permanent.

  James even dared to hope that he might rise in his new position, and one day feel able to approach Dorrie, but his doubts soon returned.

  The news of the relief of Mafeking came while Captain Furlong was still at home and even he was swept up in the general rejoicing. Flags appeared everywhere, and small ones were proudly carried by children who had been given a holiday from school, and fluttered from women’s shopping baskets.

  There were church services of thanksgiving and firework displays and patriotic songs were sung in music halls and whistled by errand boys.

  No one rejoiced more than Dr O’Brien and Clara said tartly, ‘Anyone would think he’d done it all himself or his precious nephews. Ridiculous!’

  But her brother said sternly, ‘This is an occasion when everyone should rejoice. I myself feel proud to be an Englishman this day.’

  ‘He’s not even that,’ Clara muttered but Captain Furlong heard her and said, ‘He is an Irishman and the Irish regiments fought very bravely, particularly at Ladysmith, with enormous loss of life. Our dear Queen herself has remarked on it.’

  Clara said no more and later Anna said to Dorrie that she thought their father seemed to have turned against their aunt.

  Dorrie disagreed. ‘I think he’s still very fond of her but perhaps he sees how nasty she can be,’ she said. ‘Although she’s not as bossy as she used to be, is she? Perhaps she doesn’t get the chance while Father’s home,’ she giggled.

  ‘You know, I wonder if Dr O’Brien has talked to Father, Dorrie. I seem to see his fine Italian hand in all these changes,’ Anna said thoughtfully. ‘Mama cooking and Aunt Clara going visiting.’

  ‘Father might just have thought that Aunt Clara was doing too much,’ said Dorrie. ‘Heaven knows she does enough moaning about it and she’s probably been complaining to Father too.’