by Comfort Me
Captain Furlong visited her several times a week and spent the rest of his time with an easy mind, seeing seafaring friends.
Anna and James enjoyed their time in the Lake District. Anna had bought herself a suitable pair of walking boots and they spent the days walking round the lake or scrambling up the hills, delighted with the signs of spring. There were leaves unfolding on the honeysuckle in the hedgerows and on the trees in sheltered places, and Anna was enchanted to see some tiny lambs in a field one day.
‘I didn’t realise I knew so little about the countryside,’ she said to James and he promised that they would spend many days out in the summer to come.
‘Isabel thought you looked a lot better at the wedding than when she had last seen you,’ James said, ‘but she should see you now. You look a picture of health.’
‘I feel it,’ said Anna but she reflected that she had looked better for her wedding day because of the happy days she had spent before then, thanks to her father. She had spent hours shopping and sewing and had quickly laid in a stock of underwear and nightdresses, stockings and corsets, and bought several pairs of boots and a pair of low shoes.
She had also ordered two shantung suits from a Chinese tailor and two day dresses and hats and gloves. Anna felt she had not realised how worried she was by her shabby state until she had the chance to rectify it, but she felt immensely happy and confident now.
Even the prospect of staying with Isabel, although so welcome, had been spoiled by this underlying worry. She felt fresh anger towards her mother at the thought of all the petty humiliations she had endured but as though he read her thoughts James said, ‘I’m glad Isabel was able to come to the wedding.’
‘Yes, I’d have asked her to be bridesmaid if I’d known,’ Anna said. ‘Although all the Deagans have been so good to me.’
‘You must have Isabel to stay,’ James said, ‘or you can go and see her now. The Jensons all seem to have settled well into their new home, although they must still miss Captain Jenson.’
‘Yes indeed,’ Anna agreed but her mind was still on the difference the money her father had given her had made.
She had shopped carefully and still had much of the thirty pounds left when he gave her a further twenty pounds, so she had spent a morning at Hawkins in Liverpool, buying sheets and pillowcases, table cloths and napkins. It was traditional for a bride to provide household linen so Anna thought happily that at least in that way she would be a traditional bride.
On the day before the wedding her father had called her into his study and given her a bank book. ‘I have deposited fifty pounds in your name, Annabel,’ he said, ‘as I did for Dorothea. James will advise you what to do if you need to draw on it, although I understand that these days a wife controls her own money.’
‘Yes, that’s so, Father,’ she said, ‘but you’ve already given me so much. I’m very grateful but you’ll have a lot of expense now, won’t you, with Mama’s illness.’
Her father looked astounded, ‘as though I’d grown two heads’ she afterwards told James, then he patted her shoulder. ‘Don’t bother your head about that, my dear, although I’m touched that you thought of it. The wolf is not at the door yet.’ He smiled and patted her shoulder again so Anna simply thanked him again and carried the bank book away.
While they were in Coniston she told James about the bank book and about the balance of the money her father had given her.
‘Thanks for telling me,’ he said, ‘but that’s your money, Anna.’
‘I wanted you to know about it, as you’ve been so open with me,’Anna said.
James replied, ‘While we are on the subject, I think we should decide about our arrangements. Henry Mortimer told me once that his wife has a personal allowance as well as the housekeeping money so she has some independence. I thought it was a good idea.’
‘I think so too,’ said Anna. She had always been too ashamed of her penniless state to speak of it to anyone but now she told James of the humiliations she had endured. ‘It affected everything,’ she said. ‘I helped with free dinners for destitute children but the ladies put money together sometimes for treats for the children. Only a shilling or so, but quite beyond me so I dropped out. I couldn’t join the suffragists with Kate for the same reason – lack of money.’
‘I understand,’ said James. ‘My mother demanded all my salary. I think I acquired a reputation for meanness in the office but I simply had nothing. Only those who have never been without money think it’s not important.’
Later, Anna reflected that she and James could speak freely to each other on subjects that were taboo to others but they could never speak about emotional matters.
The last day of their holiday arrived and she looked forward to their return home with a mixture of hope and dread. Could this marriage work? She would soon know.
Chapter Nineteen
As the cab drew up to the house in Eastbourne Street the windows sparkled in the thin March sunlight and there were gleams from the brass fittings on the door. ‘Someone’s been busy,’ James remarked as they alighted from the cab and Frances’s niece opened the door to them.
James went straight in to greet Frances but Anna lingered in the hall to take off her coat and hat and give them time alone. Bridie, the niece, looked surly as she helped Anna and grumbled that she had never worked so hard in her life. ‘Me aunt’s a proper slave driver,’ she said.
‘Everywhere looks beautiful,’ Anna said, glancing through the open doors of the parlour and dining room. She took a sovereign from her purse and pressed it into Bridie’s hand. ‘That’s for all the extra work,’ she said.
The girl stammered, ‘But, missis, me aunt,’ glancing fearfully at the kitchen door.
Anna smiled and put her finger to her lips. ‘Just between us,’ she said and followed James into the kitchen.
She found him sitting by Frances’s chair, holding her hand, but he stood up when Anna appeared. ‘The house looks beautiful,’ Anna said when she had greeted Frances.
Frances smiled complacently. ‘I was determined it was going to be spotless when you came home,’ she said. ‘It was a good chance to spring clean while you were away.’
Later, when she was sitting in the parlour with them after their meal, she dropped a bombshell. ‘You know your sister’s been home,’ she said casually.
Anna felt James, who was sitting beside her, jerk with surprise and she said coolly, ‘No, I didn’t know, Frances. We’re going to see them later.’
‘She’s gone again now,’ said Frances, ‘but I met May Beddoes and she said Dorrie told her that her life’s upside down since her husband left the army and went into business and she’s had to leave all her friends. And then all the worry about your Mama. She couldn’t understand why you suddenly decided to get married by special licence in the middle of all their troubles, when you knew she couldn’t get home for the wedding.’
Anna and James stared at her, too surprised to speak, and she said hurriedly, ‘Don’t worry, I gave her a flea in her ear. She won’t come to me with no more gossip. I thought I’d tell you, though. Forewarned is forearmed, as they say.’
Anna said nothing, but later, when she was in her bedroom preparing to go out, she took out the photograph of Eugene and looked at it. She still felt the pain of love and loss, though not strongly, and she reflected that he could become a memory but Dorrie was still a living, breathing person whom they were bound to see, so James’s love for her would always be kept alive. Unbidden tears filled her eyes but she swallowed and blinked them away. She had no right to shed them, she felt.
When they went to Westbourne Street they found Captain Furlong quite cheerful and being well looked after by Clara. He told them that Dorothea had paid a flying visit, alone, as Michael was tied up with business. ‘He put her on the train and I met her at Lime Street,’ he said. ‘She was so sorry to miss your wedding but she said her life is upside down at present. She spent a lot of time in Southport with Mama.’
&n
bsp; After visiting her father, Anna and James walked up to the new house and were dismayed to find that little progress had been made with the repairs.
As the days passed, Anna became more and more impatient for the move to the new house. She often felt like an interloper in Eastbourne Street. On their first day home Frances had made several remarks which suggested that she expected to continue running the household and planning the meals and Anna wondered how she could assert herself without giving offence.
In the evening James produced money he had drawn from the bank and handed Anna the housekeeping budget and the allowance they had agreed on. ‘I hope Frances doesn’t mind,’ Anna said. ‘I think she might still expect to do the shopping.’
‘No. She’ll be glad to be rid of it,’ James said. ‘Walking is such an effort for her. I’ve always paid her wages separately from the housekeeping so there’ll be no problem.’ Anna was not so sure but she was determined to try to please Frances and hoped she would succeed.
Bridie had returned to her job in the doll factory, declaring that she’d starve before she went into service, and Anna did the housework herself, with some help from Frances.
She was conscious of unspoken criticism from Frances but she felt she was bound to resent her and tried to ignore it, until one day she looked disparagingly at some steak Anna had bought. ‘He wouldn’t have palmed that off on me,’ she said and Anna’s temper flared.
‘Are you implying I don’t know how to shop?’ she demanded angrily.
Frances said quickly, ‘No, no. Just he knows me and you’re new to it.’
‘To this butcher, but I’ve shopped for years for Mama. I’ll go back to her butcher if you think this man’s dishonest but you recommended him,’ said Anna.
‘I didn’t mean no harm,’ Frances said, so obviously upset that Anna’s anger died away.
‘I’ll stay with him then,’ she said.
Later, Frances said to her, ‘I must have annoyed you. You’re always so reserved, just like James,’ and Anna wondered if perhaps they were too reserved.
Mrs Furlong returned from Southport, apparently cured, and her husband returned to sea but only for a short voyage.
Anna and James paid a duty visit to her mother and aunt every week but it was short and formal. Dorrie was never mentioned but one day Clara said, ‘Have you heard from your sister, Anna?’
‘No, but I think she’s very busy,’ Anna said.
Clara seemed about to say more but Mrs Furlong said plaintively, ‘She’s coming to see me soon. She’s very worried about me,’ and Clara snorted and turned away. Anna wondered what she had intended to say but Mrs Furlong dominated the conversation until they left.
If Dorrie was coming for a visit Anna would have to decide what to do. So far, Dorrie’s changed circumstances had meant that the rift between the sisters could be concealed but now they must either pretend to be friends or be open enemies.
Anna lay awake for a long time, thinking about her sister and James’s feelings for her. It was one thing to think of her as a dream figure beyond his reach but another to meet her, not even as just an acquaintance, but as her brother-in-law. Could he subconsciously have thought of that when he proposed to me? Anna wondered at the time of night when her spirits were at their lowest ebb.
In the morning light, common sense reasserted itself. James was an honourable man and had probably not thought of having to see Dorrie any more than she had.
By the terms of their arrangement, their marriage was working well. They had married for companionship and to improve life for both of them, and in that they had been very successful. They enjoyed each other’s company and could discuss most subjects, although not emotional ones, and Anna found that James could be very sensitive to her feelings.
She had felt excluded when Frances talked knowledgeably to James about the men in his office, and thought that James was unaware of it, but he had made a point of telling her about his colleagues and their families. She was sure that such a sensitive man would never do anything to hurt her and she would not let unfounded fears spoil their happiness.
Anna decided that she would write a short letter to Dorrie so that the outward form could be preserved, although she would never feel the same about her after the nasty letter, but before she had time to write a parcel was delivered.
It was a belated wedding present, a large damask table cloth and twelve napkins, and a note apologising for the delay due to circumstances and wishing them well.
‘I’ll write to Dorrie and Michael right away,’ Anna told James and later she wrote a short, stilted letter, thanking them for the gift and good wishes. She addressed it to Dorrie and Michael and signed it Anna and James.
She told her mother and aunt of the gift and mentioned it to several friends so that the illusion of harmony between herself and Dorrie was maintained.
Dorrie and Michael arrived a week later, on a day when Anna and James had tickets for an evening concert. They were going with Jim and Luke Deagan so it was an excuse for a short visit to Anna’s mother’s house.
Michael looked older and tired, although as handsome as ever, even in civilian clothes. He kissed and hugged Anna and shook James’s hand firmly. ‘Congratulations to you both and all good wishes for a happy future,’ he said in his soft brogue, smiling at them.
Dorrie was sitting beside her mother, who was holding her hand, and she held out her other hand to James with a coquettish look from under her eyelashes. She evidently expected him to kiss it but he shook it and said, ‘Good evening,’ then bowed to her mother.
Anna bent and gave Dorrie a peck on her cheek and asked if they had a good journey.
‘They can only stay five days,’ her mother complained. ‘It’s ridiculous.’
‘I have to be back to pay the men’s wages,’ Michael said. ‘You wouldn’t want me to leave them hungry.’ He laughed but there was no answering smile from Dorrie or her mother.
Anna thanked Dorrie and Michael again for their wedding present and James asked Michael how his business was going.
‘Grand,’ Michael said cheerfully. ‘We have a contract for twenty-eight houses. Just the right size to start off.’
Dorrie and Mrs Furlong made no contribution to the conversation, and Anna was relieved when James took out his watch and said to her that he thought it was time to meet the Deagans and they made their goodbyes.
Dorrie had looked at James with a sneering expression as they left and Anna hoped he had not seen it. She was furious on his behalf but the music calmed her and she firmly rejected any more thoughts of Dorrie.
At last the new house was ready. Curtains had been hung, carpets laid and the new furniture chosen and put in place. Most of the furniture from Eastbourne Street had been suitable but more had been needed for the larger house. The light paint and wallpaper gave the same feeling of brightness to all the rooms and the large, airy kitchen had been fitted with a gas cooker as well as a modern coal range.
From Anna’s point of view the greatest advantage was that Frances had her own pleasant room on the ground floor. It was large enough to be both bedroom and sitting room, with French windows opening on to the garden. In Eastbourne Street Anna had never been alone in the kitchen and the large fire which Frances needed made it like an oven. Now a large fire burned in Frances’s room, with her chair drawn close to it, and Anna had the airy kitchen to herself.
Frances sometimes hobbled in to help but it was clear that her arthritis was much worse, even though it was now high summer. Dr O’Brien had been to see her, leaving aspirin and sleeping tablets to dull the pain, but with Anna’s connivance the gypsy medicine had travelled with Frances and she was perfectly happy.
A few weeks later the gypsy came to the kitchen door with a toddler clinging to her skirts and Anna took them through to Frances’s room. She brought them a pot of tea and some sandwiches and cakes and told Frances that she was going to work in the garden. ‘Take anything you want from the kitchen, won’t you, Frances?’ she
said, smiling at the toddler.
Rosa rose to her feet and stretched out her hand for Anna’s hand, then studied her palm. ‘You have known unhappiness,’ she said, ‘but if you believe in yourself there are happy days ahead. You must fight evil but have faith in yourself and your husband and all will be well.’
She still held Anna’s hand but her eyes were closed and she was swaying. ‘You will have a long and happy life and three children to cherish you in your old age but you must believe in yourself and in your husband’s love.’
She opened her eyes and Anna said quietly, ‘Thank you,’ and gently withdrew her hand.
She went into the garden with the gypsy’s words running through her mind. Believe in yourself. She seemed to understand and yet – three children! Anna’s ignorance of childbirth and procreation would be unbelievable to later generations but she knew that husband and wife must sleep together before babies appeared. Rosa had seemed convincing but Anna doubted her words.
Later Frances thanked her for the welcome and the gifts she had given Rosa. ‘She took the rest of the food you brought in and I gave her some sugar and tea from the kitchen and a loaf and a pot of jam. I’ll make it up to you,’ she said.
‘Don’t be daft,’ said Anna. ‘Can she really tell fortunes?’
‘She’s told me things I couldn’t believe would happen but they have,’ Frances said. ‘Mind you, she’ll only do it if she likes you. She says it’s only with certain people that the gift comes to her. You’ll find out she’s right.’
Anna smiled and hid her doubts.
The long grass in the garden had been scythed and the borders dug over before they moved in and James engaged a jobbing gardener to come three days a week. He wanted help for Anna in the house too but she was unwilling to take any more of Frances’s relations, then Dr O’Brien told them of a girl who needed a place.