For My Brother’s Sins

by For My Brother's Sins (retail) (epub)

  Chapter Forty-Three

  The fact that she had had to pay more for the store than she had bargained for had no effect on Thomasin’s enthusiasm for the project –though her son’s underhandedness had obsessed her for a long time afterwards. Many a private tear was shed before she was able to shove Dickie to the back of her mind and get on with her life. If he wasn’t dead before he might as well be now, she told her family. But it wasn’t quite true. He was her son and she still thought about him.

  Thank God she had her work to take her mind off things. The Parliament Street store was open for business now and everything here was as she had pictured it. The service area was three times larger than the one in Goodramgate and looked very grand with Sonny’s pictures hung on its walls. She had been correct about those too – they were selling even better in this setting. She hoped it wouldn’t be long before she could release Sonny from his bargain and let him get on with producing some more. He was as miserable as sin being stuck here all day. Come to that, he wasn’t much happier when he got home. She wondered, as the two of them took the cab home that evening, if there was some way she could cheer him up, and was provided with the answer when a poster caught her eye in Church Street.

  She tapped Sonny’s arm. ‘Ooh, look! That looks like a good play on at the theatre! Why don’t you take Peggy tonight?’

  He studied the poster until the carriage took it out of view. ‘I don’t know that I can be bothered. I’m worn out.’

  ‘What – at your age! Come on, don’t be such a stick in the mud. It’ll make a nice change – I’ll buy the tickets.’

  ‘Well …’

  But his mother was already banging on the cab roof and giving the driver a change of directions. ‘We’ll call at the theatre on the way home and see if there’s any tickets to be had.’

  There were. Thomasin purchased two in the Dress Circle and pressed them into her son’s hand before telling the cabbie to move on. ‘It’s ages since you had a night out. It’ll do the pair of you good.’

  Peggy thought otherwise. ‘But you know very well that Thursday is my sewing circle!’ she berated when he told her about the tickets.

  ‘All right!’ he shook his head vigorously. ‘There’s no call to jump down my throat. Mother just thought it would be a nice change for us, that’s all. And so do I. Can’t you miss your sewing circle for once?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘What’s so special about a sewing circle?’ enquired Thomasin, nettled that her treat had met with such ingratitude. ‘I’m certain Dora and the others would forgive you for wanting to spend the evening with your husband instead. You never go out together these days.’

  ‘What business is it of yours, Mother-in-law?’ Peggy demanded. ‘And yes! I’m sure my friends would understand if I wanted to spend the evening with my husband – but I don’t.’

  ‘Peggy, I’d ask you to speak more civilly to my mother,’ warned Sonny. ‘She’s only concerned that the two of us don’t get very much enjoyment these days.’

  ‘And whose fault is that?’ declared Peggy. ‘I’m stuck here on my own with no company except for two screaming children, and when you come home in the evening what do you do? You paint!’

  ‘Is there any wonder when he has to listen to all this carping?’ cut in Thomasin. ‘All the more reason, I would’ve thought, for you to jump at tonight’s offer. And if you’re as bored as you say you are during the day there’s plenty of work needs doing at the store or even at home. I suggest that you take up your husband’s invitation before the time comes when he grows tired of asking.’

  ‘Come on, Peg,’ coaxed Sonny. ‘Say you’ll come. If I’d known how you felt about my painting I wouldn’t’ve spent so much time on it.’ Maybe that was the problem.

  ‘It’s not in my nature to deprive you of something that’s so vital to you,’ she said pettishly.

  ‘Nothing’s as important as your happiness,’ he told her. ‘Please come with me tonight. I promise you’ll find it more exhilarating than your sewing circle – it’s a comedy.’

  ‘The others’ll be expecting me,’ wheedled Peggy. ‘I can’t let them down.’

  ‘But you’d let your husband down,’ observed Thomasin coolly.

  ‘Oh, very well!’ snapped Peggy. She might as well give in. They were all against her, damn them. She went upstairs to change, seeing in her mind’s eye Edward tapping his cane with impatience, waiting on the steps of the Assembly Rooms. He was the third so far in what was to be a procession of meaningless affairs. They had started a few months ago with a chance meeting in the park. There had been nothing handsome or charming about that first man, in fact he was positively base, but the baseness in him had stirred the intrinsic sameness in her, and had set the wheels in motion. She had, from that point, taken to leaving the children at home when she went for her constitutional; they were too mischievous and bright to risk taking them with her. The knowledge that she was depriving the children of their walk had not come to light as yet. With Sonny having to work in the afternoons she was quite safe. Though Josie and the other maids had complained that the little imps were always under their feet none of them had taken their complaint higher than the children’s mother. However, because of their repeated griping, Peggy had been forced to turn to other methods to contain her charges.

  She braked in her motion of dragging the brush through her hair and rose from her seat to study her figure in the mirror. On her face were all the signs, the reasons for her extreme irritability. She wondered how long it would take for her dear mother-in-law to notice and congratulate Sonny, thereby letting the cat out of the bag. Though it would be more like a tiger than a cat; she hadn’t allowed Sonny near her for ages, he would know immediately. She really must make an effort to rectify the situation. But it certainly wouldn’t be the solution she had contemplated in her first attack of panic; she would rather risk being thrown out than face death at the hands of a crone.

  Turning sideways, she still posed before the glass, running a hand over her abdomen. At least there was nothing showing there yet. That gave her time to carry out her plan. Sonny wouldn’t know the difference – he would be too pleased at regaining admittance to her bedroom to notice he had sired a seven month baby.

  For once she did not ring for Josie’s help in dressing – she was already laced – and selecting her prettiest dress, put it on. When Sonny came up to change she called to him as he passed her open door, begging assistance with her buttons. Without speaking his fingers fumbled thenway up the row of blue buttons. On reaching the last one they were about to move away when she stayed his hand with one of hers.

  ‘I’m sorry, Sonny.’ She pressed her lips to his captive hand. ‘I was an utter fishwife down there. I really don’t know what came over me. After all, I’m forever complaining about Dora, aren’t I?’

  Sonny’s surprise at this unexpected softening transmitted itself to his face, then was swept aside by his love for her. Here was his old Peggy as she had been before Dickie had got his filthy hands on her – soft and gentle. He pulled her around to face him. ‘I do worry about us, you know, Peggy. I think the world of you … but if I thought it was me who was making you unhappy then I wouldn’t keep you to this marriage. You’re free to go whenever you want.’

  She fell against him, though the action was caused more through dread than sentiment. That was the last thing she wanted; him to let her go at this stage. ‘Oh, Sonny, Sonny! It’s not you. If it weren’t for your mother I know our marriage would be truly wonderful. She comes between us, Sonny, you know she does. If only we could be on our own …’

  ‘Then we will,’ he said impulsively. ‘We’ve waited long enough for Mother’s settlement – it’s never going to come. Well, she can keep it. I’ll get a loan, and you’ll choose wherever you want to live.’

  This was more than she could have hoped for. ‘D’you mean that?’

  ‘Yes. I think you’re right, Peggy. It is living here that’s made us fall apart. I’d do anythi
ng to have things how they used to be.’ He touched his lips to the curve of her shoulder. ‘I’ll go see the bank manager the first chance I get tomorrow.’

  She found it difficult to stop her hopes soaring, having had them stamped on too many times by his mother. But this time she felt pretty confident that he would carry out his promise. She jumped from his embrace. ‘Oh, Sonny I do love you! Come. Don’t let’s waste time discussing such boring things as money. Let’s go celebrate with a night on the town.’ She grabbed her wrap and purse, then ran helter-skelter down the stairs.

  Sonny, with the feeling that he was taking part in someone else’s dream, pursued her.

  * * *

  The evening at the Theatre Royal transcended his grandest hopes. The play, as he had told Peggy, was a comedy, but it was not the actors’ amusing poses that made him laugh and laugh until his stomach ached. The happiness that had eluded him for so long was now sitting next to him in the shape of his lovely wife, who giggled and heaved out her appreciation of the play on his shoulder. Afterwards, bowing to Peggy’s decision that it was far too early to go home, Sonny escorted her to a dance where they waltzed and reeled until the early hours and their bursting lungs screamed for mercy.

  Once home, like two naughty children, they crept upstairs laughing and shushing until they arrived at Peggy’s bedroom door. And there, Sonny’s prayers were answered as she put her arms around his neck and drew him into the darkness.

  * * *

  Peggy screwed back the lid on the pot of moisturising cream, gave her cheeks a brisk rub to heighten their bloom, then rang for Josie to tighten her stays. The housekeeper, having to break off her work, came huffing and puffing into the bedroom.

  ‘There are another two maids already up here who could’ve done this, Mrs Feeney,’ she reminded Peggy, grasping the laces of the corset and straining with all her might. ‘It’s not really my job.’

  ‘But I sent for you,’ replied Peggy with a grunt as the stays bit into her waist.

  – Aye, and we all know why, thought Josie, heaving and sawing with the laces. Because there’s only me what’s strong enough to squeeze this load o’ flab into a twenty-two inch waist.

  Once laced, Peggy examined her wardrobe. ‘I think I shall wear the beige today.’ She pointed to a beige gown, criss-crossed with cream braid over the bodice which, when it was donned, made her look like a bakewell tart in Josie’s estimation. She’d never have as much style as Miss Erin or Mrs Feeney senior, who was more than twice her age but still had a better figure.

  ‘Very well, that will be all.’ Peggy stabbed a marcasite pin through the straw hat.

  ‘Could I enquire if madam is going out?’

  Peggy turned cold eyes on the maid. ‘If it is any of your business I shall be out for the remainder of the day.’

  ‘What about the children, ma’am?’ asked Josie, knowing full well what the reply would be.

  ‘You have no need for concern,’ answered Peggy, pushing a curl into place. ‘I shall make sure they do not become a nuisance to you.’

  – I’ll just bet you will, thought Josie angrily. We’ll never hear a peep out of them bairns all afternoon. In fact I’ll have the Devil’s job of even waking them to get them ready for bed. The girl kept persuading herself that it was none of her affair, but all the same she knew that it was; it was everyone’s affair. She really ought to do something about it, but just what she had not decided. One thing was certain; Mr John would not like it No, he wouldn’t like it one little bit what she was doing to them kids.

  After Josie had gone, Peggy reached to the back of her wardrobe and brought out a wad of stockings. Unravelling them, she carefully plucked the botde and spoon from their folds and threw the discarded garments on the bed. Then she went to the nursery.

  ‘Oh, Mam!’ complained Rosanna, the minute she saw the bottle being dpped towards the spoon. ‘Not today. Me an’ Nick are playing a good game. We don’t want to go to sleep.’

  ‘Hush, Rosie. You must have your nap in the afternoon to keep you healthy and strong. Come, open wide.’ Peggy pointed the spoon at the child’s mouth and the hard expression in her eyes brooked no resistance. Rosanna had tried that once, to her cost.

  Ugh! but it was foul. The gooey draught stuck to her teeth and she knew from experience the taste would still be with her when she woke. Nick dutifully received a similar dose and the two were stripped of their clothes and put to bed. Peggy tucked them in and kissed them before departing.

  ‘Be good and I might bring you a sugar mouse when I come back.’

  A sleepy Rosanna didn’t hold out much hope; Mam was always promising to bring them presents but usually forgot. She yawned, cuddled up to a drowsy Nick and was very soon asleep.

  Peggy wound the stockings back around the bottle and replaced the bundle at the back of her wardrobe, then went off to meet her lover.

  * * *

  From her seat in the counting house, which was separated ffom the main store by a glass partition enabling her to keep a check on business, Thomasin could see the back of Sonny’s head and wondered what was so interesting in the conversation he was having with the dapper man to keep him so long from his work. He had gone into the main store to check on a price for her and had ended up being there for fifteen minutes at the very least.

  There had been a significant change in his mood since last night. That it was to do with his wife Thomasin was well aware, for having the bedroom directly below Peggy’s she had come to distinguish whether the bed held one occupant or two. She was equally aware that if Peggy was showing some wifely devotion there was some chicanery behind it.

  Oh, God what had that poor lad done to deserve such a partner, she sighed, twiddling the pen through her fingers. Such a decent, upright lad he was – but not any more. Peggy had made sure of that.

  She frowned and raised herself a little way out of the chair in order to catch a glimpse of his conversation partner. Quite obviously it was Sonny’s paintings that was the subject of their talk for the man kept referring to the exhibition as he spoke.

  The implication of what Sonny had just heard set the tingle of excitement whirring in his breast. He asked the man, who had introduced himself as William Lewis – though introductions were superfluous for the man’s reputation as a great artist was well known to Sonny – to repeat his offer. He was unable to believe what he had just been told: that the great William Lewis was inviting him, a virtually unknown artist, to put on an exhibition of work at the other’s gallery.

  The man smiled and directed his gaze over the heads of the tea-drinkers to study the paintings once more. ‘Is it so incredible? All the great artists were unknown once upon a time. Some whom I consider to be the greatest of all are still not recognised today. But Mr Feeney, the one point where you differ from them is that you will not have to wait until you are dead for recognition. Another point to your favour is that you are apparently not influenced by any of them – no heroes. There are plenty of competent Van Eycks, Rembrandts and Gainsboroughs around today, all churning out admirable but boring copies of their idol’s work. Your style, however, is most distinctive. I should like to see a wider example of it, hence my offer.’

  ‘But to grant me an exhibition without seeing the rest of my work …’ Sonny was mesmerised.

  ‘No need, my dear chap – if the two dozen or so I see here are indicative of your collection.’

  Sonny pushed a noisy breath of wonder through his teeth. ‘Good heavens! I still think somebody forgot to wake me this morning.’ He flapped his hands against his sides.

  The man noticed two customers leaving their table and asked if he and Sonny might take their places so that he could study the young man’s brushwork more closely. Sonny steered him to the table under a landscape of the Dales, painted in his college days. ‘I can recommend the coffee, sir, the beans were freshly roasted this morning.’

  ‘Thank you, no.’ Lewis put his eye close to the painting and made respectful noises. Finally he straighte
ned and said, ‘I’d like to purchase this one if I may?’

  Sonny, just escaping from the vortex of excitement was plunged back in. ‘You? You want to buy it?’ Then took control of his manners. ‘Why, certainly, sir … of course!’

  The man inserted his hand into his inside pocket. ‘Is there anywhere a little more private where we may do business?’ Sonny rapidly escorted him into the counting house, introducing Lewis to his mother. ‘Charmed, Mrs Feeney.’ William Lewis bent over Thomasin’s hand. ‘I’m delighted to meet the mother of such a talented young man.’

  ‘Mr Lewis wants to buy one of my paintings, Mother. Imagine it!’ Sonny held up the landscape which he had removed from the wall. ‘And you’ll never guess … he’s also promised to arrange an exhibition of my work at his very own gallery.’

  Thomasin was effusive in her congratulations. ‘Didn’t I always say you’d be famous?’

  ‘Well, it’s early days yet, Mother … oh, Mr Lewis I beg your pardon! Am I keeping you waiting?’ Sonny had noticed the man’s glance at the clock.

  ‘As a matter of fact I’m already late for my appointment,’ said Lewis. ‘But all in a good cause. I was strolling past your store, spotted your work and came for a closer look. Actually it was that one which drew me.’ He nodded at the painting in Sonny’s hands, ready to write out the cheque. ‘I grew up around Wensleydale and recognised that stretch of water immediately. A most prepossessing place, Semmerwater and excellently captured here. Are you conversant with the legend?’ Sonny said he was. ‘I recall staring into its grey depths as a child, trying to spot the submerged city. Never did.’ He smiled. ‘So, how much do I owe you for my nostalgia?’

  Sonny pointed to the price ticket on the corner, holding his breath: was it too high? Normally Sonny’s pictures sold for between two and five guineas but he was loath to let this large masterpiece go for less than ten. No one had wanted to pay it of course … until now. Lewis handed over the cheque without complaint. On the contrary: ‘You could be earning much more if you undertook commission work, young man.’