Emma and Her Daughter

by Linda Mitchelmore

  ‘No,’ Emma said. ‘Any shame – if there is any – is yours. But I am concerned for you and the way you’re … well, living your life at the moment.’

  It had to be said and that was the kindest way Emma could think of saying it.

  Ruby looked up from pouring tea into a cup, the teapot held with both hands in mid-air.

  ‘I’m doin’ me best, Em,’ she whispered. ‘To be a better person. But it ain’t easy. Where is ’er? Fleur, I mean.’

  ‘At the lending library,’ Emma told her. ‘She’s become very keen to learn Italian all of a sudden because she’s met an Italian boy she’s sweet on. Paolo. His father owns an ice cream parlour.’

  ‘And you’m greener than grass if you think that’s where she’s to.’ Ruby laughed. ‘She’s more ’n likely takin’ advantage of you bein’ ’ere and not there keepin’ an eye on ’er.’

  Ruby could well be right, but Emma hoped she wasn’t. She had to trust Fleur to do the right thing – or at least not to do the wrong thing. But who was she to moralise seeing as she and Seth had lived as man and wife for a good eighteen months before they’d made their union legal?

  ‘I’m not here to talk about Fleur,’ Emma said.

  ‘I know. Don’t say it,’ Ruby said. ‘I’m a mess, ain’t I?’

  ‘Which do you want?’ Emma asked, her heart beating faster than she’d expected it to – she’d never been nervous around Ruby before, but she was now. ‘For me to say you are, or to deny it?’

  Ruby shrugged. ‘Same difference either way,’ she said. ‘Gawd but you gave me a shock turnin’ up back along. What’ve you been doin’ since you were ’ere last?’

  ‘Renting a house,’ Emma said. ‘I’ve paid a year’s rent in advance.’

  ‘Just like that! Same as I buy ’alf a pint of milk and water it down to make it go further, I suppose?’

  ‘Romer Lodge. I’m renting it fully furnished and it’ll be all ready for me to move into next week. It’s in Cleveland Road.’

  Emma glanced around the kitchen of Shingle Cottage – little had changed since she’d seen it last, if anything. That made her sad – for Ruby.

  ‘Very swanky,’ Ruby said. ‘A lodge. Whatever that is when it’s at ’ome.’

  Ruby took one of the chocolate éclairs Emma had brought and bit into it, the cream oozing out onto her chin. She reached over and grabbed a tea towel from the draining board and wiped the cream away.

  ‘Don’t be jealous, Ruby,’ Emma said. ‘It’s how different our lives have turned out. I’d give anything to be back in Vancouver with Seth but that can never happen now. At least you’ve got Tom.’ She struggled to push to the back of her mind what it was Ruby had been doing to earn money to feed her family. ‘If you’d written to me, about how things were here, then I’d have helped you out. Financially, I mean. Really I would.’

  ‘I don’t know as ’ow I’d want your charity, Em. Friendship, yes, but not charity. So …’ Ruby took a deep breath. ‘And you might not even want that when I’ve told yer what it is I ’ave to tell.’

  ‘Can I be the judge of that?’ Emma said.

  ‘Dare I try and stop you?’ Ruby answered, and just for a moment Emma saw the spark of their old friendship in the devilment in Ruby’s eyes and the way the corners of her mouth twitched up in the beginnings of a grin, and Emma’s heart slowed to a comfortable rate.

  ‘Tell,’ Emma said. She reached for Ruby’s hand and held it fast between her own. ‘Just hanging on so you can’t run off.’

  A tear escaped the corner of Ruby’s eye and slid down her cheek. Neither woman did anything to wipe it away.

  ‘Like I told you in me letters, Tom and I were wed just after you and Seth left fer furrin’ parts. ’Ad to, as it ’appens. You lettin’ me ’ave this place before we wed meant we ’ad opportunity, Tom and me. So that was Alice.’

  ‘She’s beautiful,’ Emma said. ‘So if you’re blaming me for getting in the family way, can I take the credit for her beauty?’

  Emma was making light of it, but it stung that Ruby had fallen for a baby so quickly when she herself never had.

  ‘The beauty’s all Tom’s side of the family,’ Ruby said, looking serious. ‘I never was a looker. But my Tom came ’ome from the war a broken man, Em. The first thing he said was that I wasn’t to ask ’im no questions and ’e wasn’t goin’ to tell me of the ’ell ’e’d been in either. ’E were in Wipers, I know that.’

  Emma had to bite her tongue not to correct Ruby’s pronunciation of Ypres.

  ‘I’m sorry. It must have been dreadful beyond belief.’

  ‘Weren’t it just! It were two years before Tom was a proper ’usband to me again, if you get my meanin’. And then when ’e were again, Sarah and Thomas ’appened fast. After Thomas was born my Tom said ’e thought that was enough of that business seein’ as I falls fer ’em quicker than seagulls swoop on scraps. And ’e seemed to disappear inside ’imself, and the injuries ’e got from France began playin’ up. ’Is leg and that. Doctor Shaw did the best ’e could with fixin’ Tom’s bones and gettin’ ’im an operation up to Exeter to re-break his leg and set it again so ’e didn’t limp so bad. And ’e organised some phsyio threropery to make ’im more mobile, seein’ as ’ow Tom’s shoulder ’ad ’ad a bucket load of shrapnel in it.’

  Ruby took a swig of tea.

  ‘Physiotherapy,’ Emma said. ‘That’s the word.’

  ‘Gawd but you don’t change a bit, Emma Jago – ferever correctin’ ’ow a body speaks!’ Ruby said. ‘No offence taken, though, ’cos it’s like music to me ears, Em, to ’ear you doin’ it. Like old times. Like the years between ’ave never been.’

  Except they have. A chasm of them. Was it going to be possible to close a chasm? Emma thought.

  ‘How is Doctor Shaw?’ she asked. The man had been kindness itself to Emma, especially the time when Emma had been beaten unconscious by Margaret Phipps in the churchyard, and Fleur kidnapped – one of the reasons that had made Seth take the step to emigrate to Canada.

  ‘Dead in the last influenza epidemic, God rest ’is soul. ’E might ’ave done wonders with Tom’s leg but ’e couldn’t mend Tom’s mind. There was no Nase Head House fer Tom to be goin’ back to work in once the war was over, seein’ as Smythe upped sticks and left fer London with ’is new wife and little ’uns, and the Americans took it over as an ’ospital. ’Ave you seen the state it’s in, Em?’

  ‘I have. I looked round it. I thought about—’

  ‘Buyin’ it or rentin’ it?’

  ‘Renting,’ Emma said. Although Emma had inherited Shingle Cottage from Seth and also his house in Canada, women still weren’t allowed to buy property of their own. Would that day ever come?

  ‘Some difference we’ve got between us in the bank balance department then, Em, if you can afford to rent a blimmin’ ’otel! Don’t tell me you’ve got a bleedin’ car and all. Gawd, those larks we had in that great car of Seth’s.’

  ‘I haven’t got a car,’ Emma said. ‘Yet.’ But she was thinking of buying one. Something smaller than the Wolseley Seth had bought, and given to Olly Underwood when they left for Canada. She would have to see where she could get advice on what would be the best car to buy. ‘Go on. About Tom.’

  ‘Well, ’e did ’is best to find work. But all the big ’ouses ’ave reduced their staff since the war. ’E’s good at ’is letters and ’e ain’t bad with numbers, so ’e applied fer a few office jobs but they always go to them as ’ad better schoolin’ than Tom ’ad. Besides, ’is right shoulder gives ’im the gyp and some days ’e ain’t got the strength to ’old a pencil, never mind write wi’ it. But we ’ad to eat, didn’t we – us and those little varmints out there.’ Ruby waved a hand in the direction of the back garden where the children could be heard playing a very noisy game of some sort. ‘Better save them a few of these éclairs, eh?’

  ‘Yes, you better had!’ Emma said, grinning at her friend. Ruby had demolished two éclairs and had just picked up a third off the pl
ate. It was as though the cakes were giving her strength to say what it was she had to say.

  Ruby put the éclair down.

  ‘Despite what this lousy government of ours says about ’elping those what fought for King and country, there ain’t much reachin’ us down ’ere. Tom ’ad to go and see two doctors over to Torquay and they said ’e was fit for work. ’E was found a job behind the counter in Annings, but when it came to liftin’ the ’eavy ironmongery stuff, ’e couldn’t do it. So ’e got ’is cards. But it isn’t only the work, Em. Some nights ’e cries all through the night like a baby. And there’s no comfortin’ ’im – neither wi’ cups of tea and a round of toast, or wi’ me body, such as it is these days.’

  Ruby paused, as though she was wanting Emma to say something.

  ‘There’s a bit less of you than when last I saw you but if money’s been tight for food I can see why.’

  ‘I’ve always fed the children first, Tom and his old mother second, and me last,’ Ruby said. ‘So I ain’t all bad, am I?’ She looked pleadingly at Emma, and her eyes welled with tears, but she blinked them away.

  ‘No,’ Emma said. ‘You’re far from all bad. You kept up your letters to me, and—’

  ‘And they was all lies, Em. For years they were lies. I oughtn’t to ’ave done it. It might ’ave been better if Tom ’adn’t taught me to read and write.’

  Ruby hung her head, but Emma reached over and with her forefinger tilted Ruby’s chin up so she was forced to look at her.

  ‘Who knows what any of us would do to save our children from starvation if we had to, Ruby?’ Emma said gently. Her heart was breaking for her old friend, and she had to swallow back her sadness. Her tears wouldn’t help Ruby, would they? ‘Where’s Tom now?’

  ‘At ’is mother’s place. Same as the children ’ave been while I’ve been doin’ you-know-what to feed ’em. His mother’s lovin’ ’avin’ her boy back with her, givin’ ’im bits of meat off ’er own plate, and always a second ’elping of puddin’, but I want ’im back, Em. ’E were a good ’usband before. And I think ’e could be a good ’usband again, but ’e needs ’elp. It’s me what ain’t been good. But ’onest to God, I couldn’t see any other way of earnin’ money when times were ’ard. You’d never believe who’s come in over my door—’

  ‘I probably wouldn’t,’ Emma interrupted, startled. She didn’t want the full details, thank you very much. ‘And don’t even think about telling me, please.’

  ‘But they ain’t comin’ in no more, Em, because seein’ you again ’as shocked me into me senses – what little sense as I’ve got, that is. I watched you walkin’ away down the road that day and I vowed then never to make you ’ave that look in your eye because of me. This is your ’ouse, and I’d best be rememberin’ that. I’d turned it into a … a … brothel, ’adn’t I? Could have been prosecuted, couldn’t I? And you with me.’ Ruby laughed nervously. ‘When you told me about Seth dyin’ and all it made me realise I was lucky to still ’ave Tom, whatever state the poor man is in.’

  ‘So,’ Emma said, struggling to find the right words to say. ‘What are you going to do to earn money for your family from now on?’

  ‘Search me. I ain’t got that far yet.’ Ruby drained the last of her tea. ‘You was always the one with the wonderful ideas. ’Elp me, Em. ’Elp me. Please.’

  Before Emma could think of a thing to say or come up with an idea to help Ruby, one of the children started screaming out in the garden, and Ruby rolled her eyes heavenwards at Emma.

  ‘Oh, gawd. Killin’ one another again, I expect. I’d better go an’ sort ’em out.’

  She skittered across the kitchen and out the back door, and Emma took advantage of her absence to find two five pound notes in her purse and put them under the teapot, just the edges of the narrowest ends poking out. That was all she could think of for the moment that would bring Ruby immediate help. Emma had noticed there was little in the cubbyhole that was used as a larder in the corner of the kitchen – just two tins of fruit, and two plates with something that was probably leftovers in between. Was there a difference between charity and a gift? Emma wondered. Would Ruby throw it back in her face?

  The screaming stopped, replaced by the previous happy yips and squeals of playing children and Ruby came back in.

  ‘More tea?’ she asked Emma. ‘I might ’ave got a few leaves left I can …’ Her hand hovered over the handle of the teapot. She’d seen the money poking out. ‘An’ I might ’ave lied about not acceptin’ charity but—’

  ‘It’s not charity. It’s a gift,’ Emma interrupted.

  ‘Gawd, but did a body ever tell you ’ow much they love you, Em?’ Ruby said. She swiped away a tear.

  Emma swallowed the lump in her throat. Ruby was the best friend in the world, learning to read and write so she could correspond with Emma when she’d been in Canada, even if those letters had been mostly lies for years.

  ‘I love you too, Ruby,’ she said. She opened her handbag and found a piece of paper and a pencil and wrote her telephone number on it, glad of the diversion because she was too full up to speak for a moment. Ruby was the sister she’d never had, wasn’t she? She had to help her. She handed the piece of paper to Ruby. ‘Telephone me if you need help. But I’ll come and see you whenever I can, once I’m settled into Romer Lodge.’

  ‘Just as well you were an old bossy boots and nagged me to read and write, then, idn’ it?’ Ruby said, with a watery smile. She slid the piece of paper under the teapot with the money.

  ‘Isn’t it just,’ Emma said, her own voice more wobbly than a half set blancmange. ‘And we’ll get through this, Ruby. Together. Or my name’s not Emma Jago.’

  Emma had to know. Ruby had said in her letters that she’d put flowers on the graves of Emma’s parents and her brother, Johnnie, but had she? Had the worry of Tom being traumatised by war, and what she’d had to do to earn money, made her forget? Or not care? What were a few flowers on the graves of people she wasn’t related to anyway? Just half an hour ago in Ruby’s kitchen she’d seen the old Ruby – the loyal and loving friend. But had she been so over the last few years?

  Emma went to her papa’s grave first.

  ‘It’s been a long time, Papa,’ she said. ‘But I’m back now.’

  There was a jam jar half buried in the grass at the foot of the simple tablet Seth had had made. There was an inch or so of water in the bottom. Clean water. Rain water at a guess. Emma ran her fingers along the lettering. Guillaume Le Goff.

  Emma had come here on impulse and she wished now she’d thought to buy some flowers on the way. But while there might not have been flowers in the jam jar, the memorial stone was clean, which wasn’t the case for many of the gravestones as they had moss growing in the lettering, and seagull droppings smattered in brown and white streaks.

  She walked on to her mama’s and Johnnie’s joint grave.

  Rachel Le Goff, aged 39 years,

  taken cruelly by the sea, 24th February, 1909

  with her son, Johnnie, aged 7 years.

  Together forever.

  Oh. A jam jar was sunk into the grass here, too, and it was full of primroses. A few primrose leaves, too. And a twig of something with leaves beginning to burst open.

  Emma bent and pulled out a primrose, held it to her nose. Such a delicate scent, hardly there at all and yet unmistakeable at the same time.

  ‘Yer didn’t believe me, did yer?’

  Emma jumped, startled. She hadn’t known Ruby had followed her – hadn’t heard her footfalls on the gravel path. She must have walked across the grass. Slowly she turned to face her friend.

  ‘I wanted to,’ Emma said, truthfully. ‘But I was afraid.’

  ‘That I’d lied?’

  ‘Yes. But I wouldn’t have blamed you. Not now I know what’s been happening in your life while I’ve been away. Tom …’

  ‘Stop talkin’ rubbish. I ain’t really got no excuses for what I’ve been up to, ’ave I? I can’t go blamin’ Tom’s troubles
on ’ow I be’ave forever, can I? An’ I only ’ad time to put these ’ere flowers on your ma’s grave when I came last. I’ve kept the stones clean an’ all. Did yer notice?’

  ‘Oh, Ruby,’ Emma said. She held out her arms towards her friend. ‘Of course I noticed. Come here.’ Ruby stepped towards Emma, and Emma folded her into her embrace. ‘Thank you.’

  The two women stood, rocking together gently for a few moments, before Ruby pulled away.

  ‘I guessed you’d come ’ere, Miss Bossy Boots,’ Ruby said. ‘You ain’t changed a bit.’

  Oh, but I have, Emma thought. We both have. But the core of their friendship was still there. She couldn’t think what to say that wouldn’t sound trite, or condescending – show up the differences in their lives. It was so quiet here. Just the softness of their breathing, and somewhere, far in the distance, a robin’s cry.

  ‘What’s up, Em? Cat got your tongue?’

  ‘No,’ Emma said. She poked out her tongue playfully. ‘It’s still in the same place.’

  But Ruby looked serious, close to tears. ‘Gawd, but I’m glad you’m back, Em.’

  ‘I’m glad I’m back, too.’

  ‘Well, now that’s settled and we’ve agreed we’re not goin’ to kill one another, I’d better get back to my nippers. Mrs Coffin from next door is keepin’ an eye on ’em fer me. Five minutes, I said.’

  ‘Off you go, then,’ Emma replied. ‘And thank you …’

  ‘Will you close that silly mouth of yours? The thanks is all mine, Emma Jago, and we both know it.’

  Emma swallowed the lump in her throat and watched her friend run back out of the cemetery.

  Chapter Four

  ‘Madam,’ the reception desk clerk said with a nod of respect the second Emma arrived in the foyer of the Grand Hotel. He looked up at her anxiously. ‘I have to tell you that there’s a gentleman waiting for you. He says he knows you. I’ve asked him to wait in the breakfast room. He seems rather agitated.’

  ‘Really?’ Whoever could it be? Her solicitor about something to do with the rental agreement for Romer Lodge? Or perhaps it was the estate agent? He’d said he knew of a property that might suit Emma better, but it wasn’t on the market yet. Maybe it was now? But it was too late for that – she’d already signed her part of the contract to rent Romer Lodge and she’d been told the owner had, too. ‘I’d better see what he wants,’ she said to the reception desk clerk.