by Betty Annand
Ellie, still dressed in her dressing gown, didn’t even bother to greet either of the ladies, before saying, “I’d like a cup of tea and two pieces of toast with jam brought up to my room, Hilda, and tell Pinky to bring it up as soon as it’s made. I hate cold toast.” Then she turned to leave.
As she was passing, Gladys reached out and caught her by the arm. “Just a moment, young lady, I want to talk to you about something.” Then, hoping the girl was gullible enough to believe her, she added, “You know, Ellie, we haven’t become the best of friends, but I truly am sorry that you may have to go back to your family. I know how much you like living with the Watts. But then again, it will be nice for your mother to have you back home. And who knows, maybe Mrs Watt will allow you to take some of your wardrobe with you to share with your sister or others who need it.”
The thought of such a thing made Ellie sick to her stomach. “What on earth are you talking about?” she demanded.
“Well, now that you have refused to go and see your father, he will probably take the doctor’s advice and go to the police. When he tells them how much you are loved and needed at home, they certainly won’t deny him his rights. It’s rather sad, seeing as you only had to visit him for just a few minutes to avoid something like this happening.”
“You are lying!” Ellie shouted. When Gladys just shrugged her shoulders, Ellie turned to Hilda, “She’s lying isn’t she, Hilda?”
“Well, I do remember when Bessie—she worked here ‘fore your time—well, the same thing ’appened to ’er,” Hilda replied. Then, managing to look sad, she just shook her head.
“What happened to her for goodness sake, Hilda? Tell me, did she have to leave?” Ellie asked, her eyes wide with fear.
“Yes, but that may not ’appen to yourself if you go with Miss Gladys ’ere, and if she explains ’ow well you’re doing ’ere.”
“He can’t really make me go with him, can he, Gladys?”
Gladys shrugged her shoulders and answered nonchalantly, “We’ll see.” Then she started to walk away.
This time it was Ellie who grabbed Gladys’s arm. “Did you say I only had to see him for a few minutes and then he would leave me alone?”
“Yes, that’s the promise he made to me, and I shall make sure he keeps his word. You know, Ellie, I think you are a very spoiled and selfish young lady, but if you were to show your father a little respect, even if you can’t show him any love, I know he will allow you to stay with the Watts.”
The ruse worked and arrangements were made for Gladys to take Ellie and Pinky to the infirmary the following afternoon. Gladys suggested Laura dress the girl in her finest, so her father would know she was in good hands. When the three entered Mr O’s ward, he was sitting in a chair dressed in second-hand clothes that were patched and clean. Even his one shoe had a good sole on it, and there was a good strong crutch leaning against the wall behind his chair. When Pinky saw him she ran and hugged him, but Ellie just offered a weak nod of her head.
“Ellie, me girl, don’t you have a hug for your pa?” Mr O said. Ellie wasn’t going to move, but Gladys was standing behind her and delivered a knee to her back, sending her into her father’s arms. Luckily, Mr O was so delighted that he didn’t seem to notice her cool behaviour. Looking her over, he exclaimed, “By all the saints, if you aren’t a sight! Angels would be jealous of you. Are you happy, me love?”
Ellie, determined to convince him she should stay with the Watts, answered with enthusiasm, “Oh, yes, yes, extremely happy!”
Impressed with both her good fortune and her diction, Mr O kept remarking on how beautiful she looked and how happy her ma would be if she could see her. “I wish I had a likeness to take for her,” he said.
When her father said he wished he had a picture to take to her mother, Ellie knew Gladys was right, and she could remain with the Watts; so she finally rewarded Mr O with a smile. Gladys saw the look of joy it brought to his face and thought, how ironic it was that just one small smile from such a selfish, little snippet would warm her father’s heart until he died. She could stand it no longer and gently pushed Pinky in front of Ellie. “Mr O, we must go now, but Pinky has something she wants to give you.”
Pinky had tears in her eyes as she approached him. More out of politeness than interest, Mr O looked at her and said, “Now, me girl, how are they treating you?”
Pinky, bursting with news, answered, “Oh, Mr O, I have nice warm clothes and lots to eat—so much food you can’t imagine. And if I do a good job, some of the folks what stays at the inn gives me money. ’Ow’s Mrs O and everybody? I wish I ’ad more to give them but I just ’as these ’ere mittens that one of the guests give me, and ’ere’s a shilling I managed to save. It’s not much, but I wants you to ’ave it for all you done for me. I miss you all so much.” With that she threw her arms around him once more.
Mr O patted her on the back and said, “I’m glad you are doing so good, and I hope you looks out for me Ellie if she needs you.”
“Oh yes, I will, Mr O, if she needs me.”
Before they took their leave, Mr O said his goodbyes to the girls and asked Gladys to stay for a minute after they left.
“Sure, and isn’t she grand?”
“If you mean Ellie, yes she is, quite grand, but I’m afraid she is also quite spoiled,” Gladys answered. She wanted to add that it was Pinky who was grand, and that he should have thanked her for the gifts, gifts that the poor girl had worked so hard to obtain. But she knew it would serve no purpose.
“You mustn’t judge her too harshly, Gladdy; she’s just a youngster. I can’t wait to tell her ma an’ the rest o’ the family what a proper lady she is; they’ll never believe me. And, Gladdy, me love, you be sure an’ tell them Watts that I’ll not bother them again. And now, I want to know why you haven’t asked about your folks an’ your friend, Toughie?”
“I suppose I was afraid to.” She told him about the meeting with her da and how badly she felt about not telling him who she was. “He looked so old and tired. I guess they didn’t go to jail or he wouldn’t have been there that day.”
“All I know is that about a week after you left, the police were around lookin’ for Mr Gaylord and askin’ questions. Nothin’ came of it though, so I guess Tonnie did a good job of getting rid of the evidence. When folks noticed you were missing, your ma said you’d run off one night and hadn’t come back.”
“I should have known they wouldn’t look for me.”
“But they did love you, Gladdy, and would have showed it if it weren’t for their sickness. Whenever I see your da, he talks ’bout you with tears in his eyes.”
“And what about Ma?”
“I’m sorry, I forgot you had no way of knowing. Your ma, she passed on a few months ago. Your pa took it real hard and he’s not been right in the head since. He’s gone and lost his business, but the man that has it now; he’s a good sort he is and lets Tonnie sleep in with the junk. He even gives him a bite to eat whenever he can, but I sort of think your da’s days are as numbered as mine.”
“Oh, Mr O, please try to prevent him from being sent to the workhouse. He used to say there was nothing in this world worse than dying there.”
“Don’t you worry; if I’m not around to do it, sure an’ me boy will see to it that your da dies in Old Nichol.”
“I haven’t much to give you to show my gratitude, Mr O, but there is something I left back home that I treasured very deeply, and I would like Mrs O. to have it. It’s a beautiful cameo that Sally gave me. I felt sick when I realized that I had left it behind, and it would make me feel so much better if I knew someone as nice as Mrs O owned it now,” Gladys said, and then explained where she had hidden it.
Mr O thanked her then put out his arms for a hug goodbye, but Gladys wasn’t ready to leave. She had been afraid to ask about Toughie, afraid he had met someone else and married. Although she knew that woul
d be a good thing for him, it wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Nevertheless, she couldn’t leave without finding out. The last thing she expected to hear was that Toughie had left Old Nichol a few months before Mr O came to Dover. This upset her more than she thought it would, and she cried, “Oh no, Mr O.”
While Toughie remained in Old Nichol, Gladys felt as though he would always be there if she should ever find a safe way to get to him, but now, unless Mr O knew where he went, they could never be together. She prayed for the right answer when she asked, “Mr O, do you know where Toughie was going?”
“I just know that this gentleman came an’ took him an’ his dog away.”
“Not a policeman?”
“No, it was a well-to-do gent, and a relative by the looks o’ him. And you needn’t worry, me girl, Rod told me that Toughie didn’t half look pleased to be going. He was a saint, that boy. You know, Gladdy, he went an’ gave my Rob his junk yard before he left. I don’t know what we’d have done if he hadn’t. Poor old Knickers dropped dead one week and my faithful old sow the next. I had nothing left to earn a penny with, even if I would have had two legs. I was sick with fever and didn’t find out he was going until after he left, or I would have told him where you went. The poor boy nearly went balmy trying to find out, but I knew you didn’t want to get him into any trouble, so I never told him, but that time I would have. Especially since he had an uncle to look after you both. But I was too sick with fever to know what was going on. I’m sorry, Gladdy, love.”
“It’s not your fault, Mr O,” she assured him. She gave him a big hug, saying goodbye.
Once out of the ward, the nurse informed her that Mr O’Brian would be picked up the next morning and taken to his home. On the walk back to the inn, Gladys told Pinky that Mr O loved the gifts. “But he said that just seeing you again was gift enough, so he gave me the money to return to you and said he would give the lovely mittens to his girl.” She took a shilling out of her purse, and gave it to Pinky.
Chapter Twelve
One evening, while Gladys was helping Millie hem a dress, she confessed that Tom Pickwick had kissed her the night they took Mr O to the infirmary. When she began describing how she felt during the kiss, there was a sudden change in the colour of Millie’s complexion. Gladys suddenly realized she was embarrassing the older woman and said, “Oh, Millie, forgive me, but you see, I’ve never felt like that before, and I wondered if it means that I’m in love?”
Millie laughed and shook her head, “No, I assure you that was not love.” Then she patted her chest and added, “You feel true love here, not down there.” Seeing Gladys’s look of surprise, she continued, “Now, don’t look so appalled. I personally believe that such feelings are not in the least shameful. If I appeared flustered, it’s just that I have been living under the pretext of being a ‘proper lady’ for so long now that I blush at almost everything. It’s ludicrous, that’s what it is.”
“What’s ludicrous?”
“How ladies nowadays think it fashionable to dislike any form of intimacy. I have no idea why. It is certainly not because we lack deep sentiments; we’re passionate about our children and our elders, so why not men? I wager our dear Queen doesn’t find her bedroom activities abhorrent, not if you can go by the incessant amount of babies she’s birthing. They say men must have their sexual pleasures, but what about our needs? We dare not say that we enjoy such intimacy for fear of being labelled whores.”
“Oh, my heavens, do you think that’s what Tom thought of me?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea.”
“Well, he can think whatever he wants. No one is going to spoil my plans.”
“I hope you never forget that.”
“Oh, I won’t. I bet you didn’t let any man have his way with you when you were my age, did you, Millie?”
Millie looked pensive for a few seconds before she replied, “As a matter of fact, I did.”
Gladys’s mouth fell open. She could hardly believe her ears. “Really, Millie?”
“Yes, really.”
“Oh my goodness, what was it like? Was it terrible?”
“No, I would say it was just the opposite. It was really quite wonderful—at the beginning that is. But such an act can only end in tragedy.”
“Oh, dear, I am sorry, Millie. You don’t have to tell me what happened if it makes you sad.”
“Not sad, dear, just a little melancholy, but I think it may do me good to talk about it. And it just might prevent you from making the same mistake.”
She was set to begin when Taffy, who had been waiting silently and patiently beside the door for a half hour, interrupted her with a demanding yelp. Millie reached for her shawl, then apologized to the dog. “Oh dear I am so sorry, Taffy. How long have you been standing there? My goodness, you are such a patient little boy. We shall have to give you a cookie when we have our tea, shan’t we, Gladys?” Then not waiting for an answer, she added, “Put the kettle on, dear; we shall be back as quickly as possible. I am afraid Taffy is not the only one in need of a tinkle.”
Gladys laughed as she recalled how upset Millie had been that Christmas morning when she showed up on her doorstep with the dog. Now she thought that Taffy meant as much to the dressmaker as if he were a real little boy.
By the time they returned, Gladys had the tea made and biscuits set out on a plate. She was anxious to hear all about Millie’s “mistake” but didn’t want to pry. Fortunately, she didn’t have to. As soon as the dressmaker took off her shawl, sat down, and had a few refreshing sips, she began to explain.
“If I am going to tell you my story, I suppose I may as well start with the events that led up to it. You see, dear, my parents were both thespians, so I was brought up in the theatre.”
“I don’t know what thespians are, but I hope it doesn’t mean they weren’t nice.”
“Thespians are actors, and they were both extremely nice, that is whenever they had time to spend with me. They were always busy learning lines, songs, or dances, while I was spending time being tutored, or what I referred to as tortured. Then when I was thirteen, I began my own acting career. At that time my parents were performing in a small theatre in the country, but I found work in the Sans Pareil, a new little theatre in London. My parents found a flat for me to rent near the theatre and next door to a dear family friend, who promised to keep an eye on me until I was old enough to look after myself.
“Jane Scott was a very kind and talented lady, and her father ran the theatre. Jane was also an actress and performed in many of the plays. She was very kind to me and the other actors. She made sure we all made enough money to pay our rent and buy food and if there wasn’t a part for us in one of the plays, we were given other tasks to do such as setting up props and cleaning the theatre after the audience left at night. Jane was the most talented person I have ever met. Besides acting, she wrote most of the melodramas, pantomimes, comedies, and even operas that were featured at the Sans Pareil. Oh, I forgot, you weren’t even born when the theatre went by that name. You probably know it as the Little Adelphi.”
Gladys hesitated, then decided to answer truthfully; “I’ve never been to a theatre Millie. I don’t know any of their names.”
“We shall certainly have to remedy that. I think the The Pickwick Papers, a wonderful play by that young man, Charles Dickens, is still playing at the Adelphi. His plays are always worth seeing, especially when he takes a part. You know, he’s a very talented actor as well as a writer. If we are not able to go to a theatre in London, there are plays that come here—not often, but occasionally.”
“Do you really think we could?”
“I shall be delighted to take you to the next one that comes to town. Now shall I continue?”
“Oh, yes, please do!”
“Where was I?”
“You had just begun acting.”
“Yes. Well as time went o
n, our little theatre became very popular, especially with the high society crowd. Although I had parts in many of the plays during the next four years, I never had a leading role until I was seventeen and then I played the heroine, a poor little waif by the name of Amelia, in a play titled A Penny a Posy. The play was written by an unknown author, not Jane, and unfortunately, was not a very good play. In fact, it only ran for three nights, but those three nights were to shape my destiny.”
Gladys began to interrupt, but Millie put her hand up and continued, “The first night of the play, the lack of applause was so depressing that I made my way to the dressing room in a very dejected state of mind, feeling certain that I was to blame. My mood changed when I found a big bouquet of red roses waiting for me.”
“How romantic! Who were they from?”
“I had no idea. All that was written on the card was, ‘To Amelia, from an admirer.’ I took the roses home to my little one-room flat where the scent of the roses, along with my curiosity, kept me awake for most of the night. Before the next performance, I asked everyone who worked in the theatre if they had any idea who gave me the flowers, but no one knew. That night our play received another poor reception, and I was sure that if the person who left the roses was in the audience, he must now regret his actions. Therefore, I was really surprised to find another bouquet of roses waiting for me that evening.
“They came with another note and my hands shook as I opened the envelope, and read, “Tomorrow night, I shall deliver the roses in person.” Some of the other actresses, far more talented and beautiful than I, often received gifts, but I never dreamt it could happen to me. I was both fearful and titillated, having no idea if my admirer was tall and handsome or short and ugly.
“The following night, after the final curtain, I was so afraid to come face to face with the stranger that my legs were shaking, and I almost left the theatre without changing out of my costume instead of going with the others to the dressing room. I needn’t have worried; there was no bouquet—no admirer, tall, short, handsome, or ugly. Although I tried to convince myself that I should be relieved, I still felt jilted. I also felt very annoyed, more at myself for being so naïve than at the mysterious man who had jilted me.