by Comfort Me
Anna told Frances what the doctor had told Maggie and what Nelly had said about Mrs Deagan choosing her own time and Frances agreed with Nelly.
‘She lived for them children from the day she was left a widow and she’ll die when it’s best for them,’ she said.
‘She’ll be sadly missed,’ James said. ‘And not only by her own family.’
‘I can’t bear to think of it,’ Anna said with a sigh. ‘She’s been such a good friend to me. All the Deagans have, but Mrs Deagan’s been like a rock and always given me such good advice. I don’t know what I’d have done without her, especially since Dorrie went.’
She glanced quickly at James, wondering how her sudden mention of Dorrie would affect him, but he seemed unperturbed.
‘You’re missing your other friends, too, aren’t you?’ Frances said. ‘The Dutch sea captain’s family?’
‘Yes, but they’ve settled down very well in their new lives,’ Anna said. ‘Mrs Jenson’s brother has a big house in the country near Manchester and he’s fixed up a cottage there for them. The eldest lad has gone to sea but the others all live with their mother. The big boys go by train to school in Manchester and the little ones to the village school.’
‘It’s a big change for them,’ Frances said. ‘Especially Mrs Jenson and Isabel.’
‘They like it,’ Anna said. ‘Isabel and her mother love gardening. They grow their own vegetables and they keep hens. The boys like living in the country and I think the uncles are very good to them but Isabel says none of them can really believe that her father isn’t just away on a voyage, even when they pray for his soul.’
‘Well, that’s a mercy,’ Frances said. ‘By the time they have to face it they’ll be over the worst.’
‘They’ve all been very brave,’ Anna said quietly.
‘What about something to eat?’ Frances said. ‘I’ve boiled a ham and made pea soup. You need something to stick to your ribs in this weather.’
‘I can recommend the pea soup,’ James said, smiling at Anna, ‘followed by ham sandwiches or ham and potatoes and vegetables? What do you think?’
‘It all sounds lovely but I had a meal before I left home,’ Anna said. ‘Perhaps ham sandwiches?’
‘You can try the pea soup another time,’ Frances said. ‘Will you bring me the makings and I’ll do the sandwiches, James?’
‘Could I?’ Anna suggested diffidently. She had noticed lines of pain in Frances’s face as she moved in her chair but Frances brushed the suggestion aside and James placed a sturdy small table before her and spread it with a white cloth.
He went to the scullery and Frances swiftly plunged her hand into a bag hanging on the side of her chair and brought out a medicine bottle and a spoon. She swiftly swallowed three spoonfuls then recorked the bottle, before thrusting it back in the bag and dropping the spoon in a glass of water beside her.
Anna was amazed by the swiftness and furtiveness of the movements but she said nothing and James returned, bringing a breadboard and breadknife, a loaf and a cooked ham.
‘Do you prefer mustard or pickles on ham, Anna?’ Frances said calmly.
‘I like either,’ Anna replied.
She was still feeling bemused but Frances said, ‘Right. We’ll have mustard then, because James prefers mustard, and I like either,’ then winked at Anna as James returned to the scullery.
When he returned he suggested that Anna might like to see over the house while Frances prepared the sandwiches and they set off. There was gaslight in the hall and in every room downstairs James went ahead to light the central gaslight.
‘I think it’s lovely,’Anna said. ‘Such a feeling of lightness and space.’
‘It looks much better in the daytime and especially when the sun shines,’ James said eagerly. ‘The previous people were artistic and had everything, walls and curtains and paintwork, in light colours. I liked it so much I kept it like that. I’m glad you like it too.’
They went back to the kitchen, where Frances was moving much more freely and had managed to lay a cloth on the kitchen table and put out plates of sandwiches, and had moved the kettle on to the fire. She sat down again while Anna made tea and James dashed upstairs to replenish her bedroom fire, then she stood again to drink her tea and asked James to help her to bed.
‘I’ll go now, before I stiffen up again,’ she said, and while James opened the door she looked at Anna and put her finger to her lips, indicating the bag on her chair. Anna nodded and James tucked Frances’s arm inside his own and helped her to walk out into the hall and up the stairs.
‘Will she manage?’ Anna asked anxiously when he came back.
‘Yes, she’ll sit by her fire for a while, then she’ll manage to get undressed and into bed,’ he said.
Anna wondered whether Frances had a bottle of the magic potion upstairs but felt she should choose her own way of managing her disability.
They ate their supper quickly, alarmed to hear the clock striking ten, and set off for Westbourne Street.
‘I hope this won’t mean trouble for you,’ James said, but Anna laughed bitterly.
‘If I’d gone straight home from the confraternity there would have been something I’d done or left undone to give cause for complaint,’ she said. ‘At least now I’ve had an enjoyable night so anything that’s said will be worth it.’
‘Have you? Enjoyed tonight?’ James said eagerly and when Anna nodded he said, ‘I was just thinking how easy we all were together tonight. Not many girls would have sat in the kitchen and been so kind to Frances.’
‘I was impressed by the way you looked after her,’ Anna said but James said quickly, ‘Nothing I could do would repay Frances for all she’s done for me. She’s been a lifeline for me. That’s why I feel awful not being able to help her when she’s in such pain.’
‘You do all you can and she appreciates it,’ Anna said. ‘She told me so.’
A light sprang up in the hall of her house and they parted hurriedly but Anna went in feeling that she was armoured against any jibe her mother chose to hurl at her.
Clara had opened the door but only said, ‘You’re late,’ before going through to the kitchen, but as soon as Anna looked into the parlour her mother began to sceam, ‘So you’ve been walking the streets, looking to pick up a man, have you? You could still behave with dignity even though you’ve been jilted and everyone is laughing at you.’
‘I think you’re losing your mind,’ Anna said coldly and walked away. Her mother screamed for her to come back but she went on into the scullery and drew a cup of water to drink.
Nelly was there and said reproachfully, ‘She was real worked up about you, with all this talk about Spring Heeled Jack,’ but Anna only said, ‘Any more news about Mrs Deagan?’
‘She was laughing and joking with Dr O’Brien and she had a good sleep after he’d gone and said she felt better, according to Maggie,’ said Nelly.
Lying in bed that night, Anna wondered how she would feel when she met James next Sunday morning but the sense of easy companionship remained with both of them. After Mass James asked if she could come to tea, as Frances was anxious to see her, and she accepted.
‘I’ll simply say I’ve been invited by a friend from the church,’ she said. ‘I realise I’ve been a fool, allowing myself to be dominated.’
Brave words but they provoked such a scene that Anna wondered whether it was worth being defiant. She had to bathe her face with cold water and press powder leaves round her eyes to hide the traces of her tears and she was still shaking when she reached Eastbourne Street.
‘Was it a battle to get away?’ James asked as he took her coat and she turned away and nodded, not trusting herself to speak. They looked into the kitchen and she said hello to Frances, who was sitting by the fire reading a missionary magazine, then went into the parlour.
The day was dry and frosty with thin sunlight and Anna could see to the full the beauty of the bright pleasant room. A wood fire burned in the grate and was ref
lected back from mirrors and glass-covered woodland scenes on the walls and a smell of burning wood and spicy chrysanthemums filled the air.
Suddenly it was all too much for Anna and she bent her head and wept bitterly. James, his face full of concern, moved swiftly to sit beside her and try to comfort her. ‘What is it, Anna? Has someone upset you?’ he asked.
Anna shook her head. ‘It was that before,’ she said in a muffled voice, ‘but now…’ She was unable to explain that the contrast between the beautiful room and the sordid scenes she had left at home was suddenly too much to bear.
‘The trouble is,’ James said gently, ‘people who know us well know best how to hurt us.’
Anna swallowed and tried to control herself. ‘That’s very true,’ she said. ‘How well you understand. That’s why I was upset before, but now – it’s just that this room is so beautiful. I can’t explain.’
‘You don’t have to,’ James said comfortingly.
Her tears still flowed and he handed her his large white handkerchief and quietly left the room. While he was away Anna tried to compose herself and he returned carrying a tray with a cup of tea and a bowl of sugar.
‘I think you should make your tea quite sweet,’ he said. ‘Dr O’Brien says freshly brewed sweet tea is the best cure for a broken heart.’ He stopped, appalled, flushing and stammering, ‘I’m – I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…’ but Anna said gently, ‘He’s got other remedies too. Hotpot and brandy and probably others.’
They both smiled, although James’s face was still red, and he said with more dignity, ‘I’m sorry. I have a knack of saying the wrong thing.’
‘So do I,’ Anna said ruefully. ‘My aunt says things come into my head and out of my mouth without pause for reflection and I know she’s right. I try to hold my tongue with Mama but before I can stop them sarcastic remarks pop out.’
‘I can’t imagine that,’ he said.
They smiled at each other, feeling at ease in each other’s company.
‘I should go and see Frances,’ Anna said but James said, ‘No need. She’ll call us when she’s ready and then you can have a talk with her after tea, while I clear away and wash up. We can have a talk now while she’s happy with her magazine.’
‘Hard to believe that it will be Christmas in a few weeks,’ Anna said. ‘Even though there are all the Advent ceremonies in church.’
‘Do your family do much to celebrate it?’ James asked.
‘No. Very little, especially since Dorrie went. We used to enjoy joining in the Jensons’ merrymaking and tried some of their ideas in our own house but there’ll be nothing at home this year. I love the church celebrations though.’
‘I suppose the Jensons will still have some merrymaking for the sake of the children,’ James said. ‘You’ll be going to stay with Isabel early in the year, won’t you?’
Anna looked embarrassed. ‘Er… I may have to wait until Father comes home. He’s due in March.’
‘The weather should be better then, anyway,’ James said, sensing her discomfort, but not knowing the cause. Anna agreed and he changed the subject.
Anna would have been ashamed to tell anyone of the scene with her mother when she mentioned the visit.
‘And where do you think you’ll get the money?’ her mother sneered. ‘Not from me, madam. You don’t earn your keep here, never mind gallivanting off all over the country.’
Anna had felt too shocked and humiliated to reply, because the visit had been arranged and sanctioned for so long, but Nelly had been furious.
‘She hadn’t got no right to say that,’ she said. ‘This house is run as if we had a flock of servants and there’s only me and you for all the donkey work. Neither of them soil their hands, except for bit of cooking, so you more than earn your keep and plenty over.’
Anna was comforted by Nelly’s support and knew that she spoke the truth but it made no difference to her mother’s decision about the visit. Mrs Furlong now turned a blind eye to Anna’s work in the house as she preferred Nelly to wait on her. Anna did the housework Nelly had to neglect to answer the constant ringing of Mrs Furlong’s bell.
Each morning Anna and Nelly were downstairs before seven o’clock and Anna cleaned and aired the drawing room and lit the fire so that it was ready for when her mother chose to appear.
Meanwhile Nelly made up the kitchen fire, which had been banked down overnight, then went out to scrub the steps and clean the front of the house.
Anna took morning tea to her mother and her aunt, then she and Nelly had their breakfasts. Anna ironed for an hour, then at nine-thirty she took breakfast trays to her mother and aunt. At ten o’clock she took hot water to her aunt who then dressed and came downstairs before going out shopping while Anna and Nelly continued to work without a break.
They had cleaned the hall and all the downstairs rooms before Mrs Furlong rang for hot water at eleven o’clock and after a lengthy toilette she floated down to settle herself in the drawing room.
After lunch, Anna and Nelly cleaned the bedrooms and Anna helped her aunt in the kitchen, so she felt she was entitled to a few hours to visit next door or go to church or even go out to tea.
All these thoughts were going rapidly through her mind as she listened to James talking about the men in his office, but she said nothing of them. Gradually the peaceful surroundings calmed her spirit and she relaxed and began to enjoy herself.
Chapter Sixteen
A lavish tea had been laid in the dining room and Frances sat with them but ate very little. She chivvied the little girl, Nonnie, to keep their tea cups filled and pressed food upon Anna until she confessed she was unable to eat another crumb.
‘Did you do the baking?’ she asked.
‘Yes. My legs are better in this weather, better than that mizzly stuff. I cooked the joints yesterday and baked this morning and the pickles and chutney and that are from before my legs got bad. I’ve learnt Nonnie how to make a good trifle, anyhow.’
‘Yes, it was lovely,’ Anna said, smiling at the little girl.
When the meal was over Anna and Frances stayed at the table while James and Nonnie cleared away and washed the dishes.
‘I’d rather talk in the kitchen,’ Frances whispered to Anna. ‘So we’ll wait till they’re finished.’
A short time later Nonnie was sent home with a large basket of food and James went to read the newspapers in the parlour, while Frances settled in her usual chair in the kitchen with Anna sitting nearby.
‘I wanted to ask you if Maggie Deagan could come and see me,’ she said immediately but Anna looked doubtful.
‘I’m sure she wouldn’t hesitate usually,’ she said, ‘but Mrs Deagan could go at any time and Maggie won’t leave her, even to go to church.’
Frances sighed. ‘There’s no way I can get to her,’ she said, ‘but I can’t stand the idea of Susan suffering if I can ease her pain. I didn’t want to draw you into it, Anna, but I’ll have to.’
‘I don’t mind, whatever it is,’ Anna said.
‘It might even be against the law, I don’t know. You remember the stuff I took when you was here before?’
‘From the medicine bottle,’ Anna said.
‘Yes, but it’s not from no doctor. I’ll tell you what started it. After old Mrs Hargreaves died and I was really running the house, like, for James, this gypsy woman come to the kitchen door one day. She wouldn’t have dared while the old one was alive, but I think she was desperate. She was starving and in rags and she had three children with her. To cut a long story short, I brought them in to the fire. I had a pan of barley broth on so I gave three of them bowls of that and did bread and milk for the baby. I knew James wouldn’t shout at me.’
‘I should think not,’ Anna said indignantly.
‘Plenty would,’ said Frances, ‘but it was terrible, Anna, to see the change in them in a few minutes, just with the fire and the hot broth. The baby was blue with cold, like a poor little skeleton with great big eyes, but the way he gobbled t
hat bread and milk and seemed to fill out before my eyes. I done jam butties and cocoa for the others, then I went and rooted through the old one’s clothes. Woollen underclothes and skirts that’d go round them twice, but at least they’d cover them and keep them warm. Her boots fitted them too.’
‘I’ll bet she was turning in her grave,’ Anna said with pleasure.
Frances said, ‘I hope so,’ and they laughed together before she went on, ‘The awful thing is, though, I’d have passed that woman in the street and not worried. It was seeing them on the doorstep when my own luck had just changed and I had the run of the house to do what I liked. Anyhow, I gave her the bag of clothes and a ham shank and a couple of loaves and a jar of jam. I gave her a bread knife too, and five shillings out of my savings, so she went off a happy woman.’
‘Did you ever see her again?’ Anna asked.
‘Often,’ said Frances. ‘I don’t mean she was always here begging. She was a true gypsy and she travelled round with a fair. She married an Englishman and when he died they said, “Let the gorgios keep you,” but the English family ignored her because she was a gypsy. She trailed after her own family, hoping they’d take her back, so she was only here odd times. The next time she came she brought her two boys, who’d been trying to earn coppers when she came the first time, and the baby. That baby I thought was about nine months old was two and a half, Anna!’
‘What was he like the second time?’ Anna asked.
‘Still frail. Not walking, but much better. Anyhow, as usual, I’ve gone rambling on. What I wanted to tell you was the second time she came she sent the boys to wait outside and she said to me, “You have pain, I know.” I did, but not nearly as much as when I was doing a lot of scrubbing, but she brought out a black bottle. “This will ease your pain,” she said, “but tell no one. It is a Romany secret.”
‘I did use it now and again and the pain went in minutes but I was afraid to use too much. I still had some when the rheumatics started and then I did need it. Over the years, whenever I’ve seen her, she’s brought some for me, but I didn’t want to let on to James. I used to pour some into a medicine bottle and hide the black bottle but then I got so I couldn’t move round to do it.’