Missing the Moment

“Danny! Just through the door I am. I’ll make us all cup of tea and a sandwich, shall I?”

  “Go and sit down,” he said. “I have something to say to you.”

  Charlotte glanced at the clock and asked. “Is it important, Danny? I have to get the chips prepared ready for Mam or we’ll never eat tonight.”

  “Tell Rhoda it’s her turn to cook.”

  “What a hope,” Charlotte laughed. She lowered her voice. “I suspect that when Brian was alive, he dealt with the food, she seems to have no idea.”

  “None so dull as those who won’t learn!”

  “She can’t help it, she’s—”

  “I don’t want to talk about your sister; I want to talk about us. Marry me, Charlotte. Forget about running a pub. I’ll find something. When Eric has gone, perhaps we could stay here. We could look after your Mam, spoil her rotten between the two of us. Couldn’t you find me something at the factory? I’m a fast learner and I’ll soon be invaluable.”

  “You have a job, haven’t you?” she asked, giving him the opportunity to tell her he no longer went to sea.

  “I can soon give it up: the charms of going to sea, being from home so much, are fading. I want to be here with you. Say the words and I’ll resign.”

  Saddened at the continuing lie she said. “I can’t afford to pay anyone for ages. Stay with your ship and perhaps in a year’s time when I get the place buzzing again—”

  “What about the first question that you neatly fielded? Marry me, Charlotte, now, before your father moves away and Harriet becomes a twenty-four-hour headache again.”

  “You don’t like my family very much, do you?”

  “Love ’em. I love them all! The Russells are wonderful! I love your Dad for the way he looks after the little ones. I love your Mam for her generosity in giving them a home. I even love your pretty, idle Rhoda. There, I love you and your family. Marry me.”

  Laughing, Charlotte stood up and shook her head. “I’m needed here for a few months at least. If Dadda leaves, Mam will need a lot of support.”

  “Damnit, Charlotte, let me help. Together we can give her all the love and support she needs. Flatter her, I will. Tell her she’s wonderful, three times a day. There. Marry me.”

  “Sorry, Danny. I can’t.”

  “I’ll go to Bristol then. I have a few friends there who might help get me started. I’ll come back as often as I can and persuade you what a good catch I am.”

  “Danny.” The words she so dreaded saying came out as her heart thumped and colour suffused her cheeks. “Danny, I can’t marry you. I – I think I still love Joe and—”

  “Charlotte! You can’t prefer boring old Joe Llewellyn to me? Please say you’re joking?”

  “I’m sorry. I feel guilty at having led you on, but I’m not the wife for you. You need someone more carefree than me.”

  “Don’t tell me what I need, Charlotte, I know what I need, and it’s you.” He had to persuade her to stay with him. They had to be considered a couple, at least until people had given up searching for the father of Lillian’s baby. She had to save him from that.

  He knew the people of Bryn Melinau would never forgive him. As far as he could run he’d never feel safe. Someone would find him, as he had found Jack Roberts.

  “Marry me,” he said again. As she began to shake her head he added. “Then at least don’t tell anyone it’s off between us. I don’t want people offering their sympathy.” Like an actor in a melodrama, he added sorrowfully. “Don’t put me through that. I – I couldn’t handle it at the moment. I was so proud to have you for my girl. You’re far above anyone else I’ve ever met and I thought the Gods were smiling on me. Oh, Charlotte.” It was the best he could do.

  Charlotte thought he was bravely holding back tears and she put an arm around his shoulders and whispered. “I’m sorry.”

  He left soon after, and Charlotte prepared the chips and unpacked the pies she’d bought from Vi and Willie’s café. She was tense and tearful herself. Telling Danny she no longer loved him was the most unpleasant thing she had ever done. He had been so distressed.

  Why hadn’t she fallen in love with him? He was fun to be with, rather handsome, and he attracted her physically. What more was there? As usual, she longed to talk to Joe.

  * * *

  Later that day, Eric saw Danny at the pub. With deep trepidation Danny forced a smile.

  “Danny. I want a word.”

  Eric’s appearance made Danny feel like a little boy caught stealing apples. “Well, I can’t stay long, Bertha’ll have my food ready. Steaming away on a pan of hot water, and hot water’s what I’ll be in if I’m late.” he joked.

  “I wanted you to know that you don’t have to worry; I’ve paid back all the money Jack stole to pay your demands.”

  “What? Mr Russell, what are you on about? I thought we’d sorted all this.”

  “Not quite. Two thousand pounds is a great deal of money. Far more than I can afford. But I paid it because I loved your mother. I couldn’t bear the thought of your name – her name – being besmirched.”

  Danny was looking at him, open-mouthed. “Two thousand? Hells bells, where did you get that from? Two thousand?”

  “A thief, is what you are, although blackmailer is nearer the truth.”

  “Off your head you must be,” Danny laughed. “All them kids have driven you round the bend, have they?”

  “It’s no use bluffing, Danny. I paid the money back into the factory accounts. Not for you. For your mother’s sake. She had so little, but she never resorted to anything even slightly dishonest. She’d have been so ashamed.”

  Danny said nothing for a while. Eric saw that he was smiling and anger flared in a most distasteful way. He had never been a violent man and Danny wasn’t going to change that. He swallowed his drink and asked calmly when Danny was leaving the town.

  When Danny spoke it was not in answer to Eric’s question.

  “He owed it to us,” he said at last. “He it was who robbed us of the house. He who made Mam sign away her home.”

  “I know.” Eric said quietly. “I can understand your need to make him pay back what he took from you. I could still have understood if you’d demanded double. But two thousand pounds. There’s no justification for that amount, and all you’ve done is deprive the children again. I had to pay back that amount and it was put aside for their education.”

  “You aren’t seriously telling me I got two thousand pounds from Jack Roberts? Two thousand? Where did you get that figure from, a Christmas cracker quiz? I never took more than he owed us plus a couple of fifties to help me get started.”

  It was Eric’s turn to stare.

  “I swear it, Mr Russell. If there was two thousand missing it was nothing to do with me.”

  “Then the money he left us in his will, it was simply paying back what he had stolen from us!”

  * * *

  Later that evening, Eric invited Joe to call and when the children were in bed, he went into Harriet’s side of the house and, avoiding Danny’s part in it all, told them what he had learnt about Jack Roberts’ money.

  “I found out that he had robbed the factory and I paid it back believing, wrongly as it happened, that I was protecting someone.”

  “So the will was a farce? He was giving you money that was yours anyway? Is that what you’re saying?” Harriet gasped. “His generosity – that so impressed people – it wasn’t for you and the children, he was simply paying a debt?”

  “An unacknowledged debt, yes.”

  Harriet looked away from Eric and asked almost casually. “Does this mean you won’t be able to afford to buy a house and move away then?”

  “There are the houses to be sold, unless we find that they were stolen, like everything else. About our staying, I’ll discuss that with you later, Harriet, if I may,” Eric said in his polite way.

  “What could he have wanted the money for?” Charlotte asked. “He had plenty.”

  “I think I can
answer that,” Joe said. “I found this photograph among his things.” He took it out and showed them. It was a crumpled, faded photograph of a shabby, tumbled-down shack built of mud and corrigated iron. Windows and doors hung at odds with the walls. Rubbish was piled against a broken gate. Outside the door were two figures, a shabby, shapeless woman with her arm around a small boy.

  “Who is it?” Harriet asked, shuddering at the unpleasant reminder of how some people had once lived.

  “The boy is Jack.” Joe said. “He’s written on the back:

  ‘Home.

  Me with my beautiful mother.’

  February 1890’

  I suspect that all his life he’d been trying to live down his childhood poverty. He dedicated his life to acquiring money in any way he could. There were several newspaper items in his possessions. Names of companies he worked for, with amounts written beside them. I think the books and newspaper cuttings might have been his black memoirs, details of people whom he had cheated. It’s possible we’d be able to find them, perhaps compensate?” He looked at Eric, who nodded. “He bought houses… and from what I’ve discovered so far, cheated two, possibly three, women out of their homes. He robbed firms he worked for and quickly moved on, buying more houses, increasing his various bank accounts.”

  “But he lived like a pauper, renting one small room.” Harriet frowned.

  “He was so afraid of being without money he couldn’t spend it or enjoy it. A sad and wasted life.”

  “Greedy more like!” Harriet said firmly. “How can you eulogize the man and pretend he was justified to cheat and steal? The man was a thief and confidence trickster and we’re lucky to be shot of him!”

  “How did you find out?” Charlotte wanted to know. Joe and Eric exchanged glances and Joe nodded, giving his approval for Eric to continue.

  “Joe did a lot of the detective work.” He paused and smiled at his daughter. “You won’t like what I have to say and I hate saying it,” he said with his slow smile. “Sorry, Charlotte, my dear, but it concerns Danny.”

  “He didn’t know Jack Roberts,” she protested.

  “He recognised him as the man who had cheated his mother out of her home. He’s been blackmailing the man.”

  Joe moved a little closer to Charlotte and put his hand over hers.

  “So that’s where he’s been getting the money.” Charlotte gasped. “I knew he had too much.”

  “What are we going to do?” Harriet said.

  “That’s up to Charlotte, I think.” Joe said.

  “Up to me?”

  “If you’re going to marry the man we can’t go to the police with this, can we?”

  “I’m not marrying Danny.”

  “Thank goodness for that!” Harriet said.

  “Do we inform the police?” Joe asked. Charlotte shook her head.

  “If Jack had lived I would have insisted.” Eric said, “but now, it all seems so pointless. I suggest I take the money he owed me, repay the children, compensate any others we learn about, and hand any that’s left to a charity. A children’s charity would be my choice.”

  The others agreed.

  “What about Danny?” Charlotte whispered.

  “We’ll leave that to you. Whatever you decide we’ll go along with it.”

  “He’s leaving. I’ve known for a long time that it was a mistake, but I’ve found it so difficult to tell him. I could never marry him.”

  “And you. Eric? You’ll stay here – until you find a suitable place?” Harriet asked.

  Eric nodded. “Until I find a suitable place, thank you. I know it’s too much for you and I’ll do my best to get out before the summer.”

  Harriet wanted to beg him not to go but she merely pointed to the teacups and asked Charlotte if she was going to make another pot of tea, or did she intend to watch them all die of dehydration?

  * * *

  Eric knew he had to get away from Mill House. He had already stayed too long. Harriet was beginning to rely on them being there. She had used his beautiful children to fill her empty life and if he didn’t move out soon he would be compelled to stay.

  Harriet needed them but – they no longer needed her. After walking out on his family so cruelly, leaving Harriet to face the gossip and speculation and, he suspected, the jeering laughter of the town, he had walked back into her life, asked for her help and received it generously. Now he was having to leave her again. But he had to go, and soon. Delaying would only make things more difficult. He had to do what was best for his lovely children. To remain would be to commit them to a life-style over which he had less and less say, and himself to misery for the rest of his life.

  It wasn’t that Harriet was wicked, but he knew he wouldn’t be free to do what he wanted for them. Without anyone realising it, Harriet would manage them, lead them down the path she wanted to go.

  It was only then, as his tortuous thoughts struggled to explain to himself the enigma of Harriet, that he became really aware of how Charlotte had suffered. He knew how hard she worked, doing far more than her share of running Mill House and trying to rescue the business from the edge of insolvency, but looking at Harriet with complete honesty, he saw too how Charlotte had been forced along a path she had not chosen. From the little he had heard of Joe, he guessed, in that flash of understanding, that he and Charlotte would have married but for Harriet’s determination that they would not.

  * * *

  Bertha’s rule that Lillian was not to leave the house or garden was not strongly enforced. Bertha had always found Lillian to be obedient. She simply instructed her not to go out and did nothing to ensure she stayed in.

  Lillian stayed at home for almost a week. Then, one morning, she woke and the rule was forgotten. Mam was out, Auntie Bessie Philpot was out, so she went for a walk. She didn’t go far the first time, just lay in the new grasses at the edge of the river.

  The weather was perfect. A gentle breeze filled the air with the sweet fresh scents of spring. The sky was blue, patterned occasionally with birds flying above her, carrying beakfuls of food for their young. Primroses and violets spread their carpet of colour along the banks under the bushes. There was a warmth and excitement in the air. Lillian laughed aloud at the sheer happiness of it all. Soon she’d have her new hens and the beautifully coloured cockerel. She had to find Danny, tell him about the bantams. He’d be so pleased. Perhaps he’d cuddle her again. She had to find Danny. He hadn’t been home for such a long time. Mam had told her he was back on his ship. That was too vague a concept for her to understand. A ship was something she’d only seen in picture books. She had often seen him running up the hill towards Charlotte, who kissed him. That was where he would be.

  The sun was getting stronger each day and she puffed as she climbed the hill. Charlotte opened the door to her knock.

  “Talk to Danny,” she said.

  “Danny? He isn’t here, Lillian. He’s working now a long way off. And what are you doing so far from home? Didn’t your Mam tell you to stay in?”

  “Danny. I want to see Danny.” A pout appeared on the plump face and perspiration gleamed on the girl’s forehead. Charlotte took pity on her.

  “You’d best come in. I’ll get you a drink and you can have a rest before walking back.”

  “It’s Lillian, Mam,” she called. and Harriet came into the kitchen and gave the girl a hug.

  “My goodness, Lillian, there’s a lot of you to cuddle these days!” Harriet laughed. “You’ve put on weight, young lady!”

  “Danny gives me cuddles,” Lillian said. “Wheres Danny?”

  “Daddy?” Harriet misheard. “How would I know where your daddy is, Lillian? Go home now, there’s a good girl. Don’t come again, we’re too busy for visitors, aren’t we Charlotte?”

  “Did you say, Danny gives you cuddles?” Charlotte whispered, when her mother had disappeared.

  “Lovely cuddles.” The girl’s eyes glowed. “When Mam’s out.” She placed a finger against her mouth to denote th
e secrecy of her words and went on proudly. “I cook Danny’s tea I do. I watch the pan careful. I don’t forget what I’m doing. I don’t burn a thing. Then, we have cuddles. Secret,” she whispered, giggling, her fingertips in her mouth, her eyes sparkling with joy. “Where’s Danny? I want to tell him about the bantams. Beautiful they’ll be.”

  “I expect he’ll be coming to see you soon,” Charlotte said, with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Not Danny, she pleaded of the Gods. Please, not Danny and this poor simple child. He couldn’t be responsible for this too?

  * * *

  A few days later, Eric announced that he had found a place for himself and the children. A small cottage not far from Bessie, who had promised to help with the children. Harriet said she had a headache, searched for her pills and went to bed.

  “Get someone to help in the house, someone who’ll be company for your mother,” Eric advised. “Don’t let fate push you where you don’t want to go,” he pleaded. “We’ve all done too much of that and it’s brought nothing but unhappiness.”

  “Bessie refused to come back and she’ll have warned off the rest of the possibles within a ten mile area!” Charlotte sighed. “It isn’t that easy to get help any more. I suppose I’ll have to give up the factory. I can’t see any other way.”

  “What will you do for money? You’ll have to work somewhere, you’ll still be leaving her all day, the same as you do now, but with less satisfaction for you.”

  “We’ll buy a smaller house, we’ll manage.”

  “Don’t give up so easily, Charlotte. There must be someone who’d like the job.”

  “And put up with Mam?”

  “What about Lillian?”

  “Lillian? Her baby’s due any moment. Besides, she’d hardly be company for Mam!”

  “She’ll tell your mother how beautiful and clever she is. She’ll admire the house and take a pride in keeping it spotless. An obedient, adoring slave. I think she’ll suit your mother perfectly.”