by Dilly Court
Flora sat down again. ‘Tell me more. I might be interested.’
Outside on the neat lawns of Lincoln’s Inn, the calf was demonstrating its desire for independence by refusing to budge, despite the efforts of Farmer Mullins and the irate couple who claimed ownership of the animal. A youth, who appeared to be related in some way to the man and woman, was plucking handfuls of grass from beneath a tree in an attempt to lure the animal back into the building. The clerk stood at the top of the steps, arms folded across his chest, patently prepared to repel any further invasion by livestock. A small group of onlookers, mainly consisting of junior clerks and passers-by, had gathered round to watch the spectacle. Some were cheering and it was impossible to tell which side they were supporting, or whether it was the calf that was getting all their sympathy.
Flora stopped and tapped the farmer on the shoulder. ‘My good man, can’t you see that the animal is scared out of its wits? If it had any in the first place, that is. Why not tie it to a tree and leave the boy to watch over it while you and these people go inside and sort matters out once and for all?’
A small cheer rippled through the crowd and someone started clapping. Cassy took the rope from the farmer’s hand and gave it to the youth. ‘Hold this and don’t let it go.’
Farmer Mullins scratched his head. ‘Seems like a good idea. What d’you say, mate?’
‘It’s probably a trick. If us goes inside he’ll get his men to snatch the animal from young Percy. They’re probably hiding round the corner as we speak.’ The man glanced around as if expecting to discover a small army of cowmen concealed in the bushes.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Flora said coldly. ‘I’m sure the boy is able to stand up for himself.’
‘Of course he is, Ted.’ The woman gave her husband a shove towards the lawyer’s rooms. ‘Get inside, you great booby. The market will be over and done with if we hang about here any longer and we’ll get nothing for the animal.’
‘Thank you, ma’am,’ Farmer Mullins said, tipping his cap. ‘I’m much obliged.’
‘Don’t mention it, my man.’ Flora walked on with a satisfied smile on her lips. ‘There you are, Cassy. All it takes is a little commonsense. Now let’s go back to that ghastly little shop and tell them that we’ve found ourselves a nice little house in – where was it?’
‘Pedlar’s Orchard, Stepney, ma’am.’
‘I hope Stepney is a salubrious area. I’ve never been there myself.’
‘No,’ Cassy said. ‘Neither have I.’ She did not want to spoil Flora’s moment of triumph by telling her that it was still in the East End, and most probably not what she was expecting.
‘You can smell the gas works,’ Belinda said, wrinkling her nose.
Flora sniffed, saying nothing, but Cassy could tell by her expression that she was unimpressed by the exterior of the house in Pedlar’s Orchard. The name had conjured up visions of green grass and trees laden with blossom in the spring and rosy red apples in autumn, but the reality was far different. On either side of the mean street, terraced houses were stuck together in higgledy-piggledy fashion. Some of the houses boasted three storeys, others only two. A squat, half-timbered pub occupied the corner site, its top storey leaning precariously over the pavement, giving it a drunken look. Most of the properties had seen better days and the one to which Flora held the key looked as though it had once stood on its own, surrounded by gardens and the possibility of an orchard. Now it had the appearance of an old statesman, bowed by age, and shabby from neglect.
‘It looks quite promising,’ Belinda said hopefully.
Eli pushed his black bowler hat to the back of his head as he looked up and down the street. ‘At least there is an open aspect at the back, even if it does encompass the gas works and the cemetery. In Spectacle Alley I could reach across from my front door to rattle the knocker on the house opposite.’
‘I’m not sure about the cemetery,’ Belinda said, following his gaze. ‘It might be a bit frightening at night.’
Eli patted her hand. ‘But at least your neighbours will be quiet, my dear Lady Belle.’
‘You’re right, of course, but please, it’s just plain Belle. My title means nothing now.’
‘Never plain,’ Eli said with obvious sincerity. ‘As I said before, and will say again, no one would ever use that term in connection with you.’
‘It’s beginning to rain,’ Cassy said hastily as Flora opened her mouth undoubtedly to utter a caustic comment on Eli’s clumsy attempt at gallantry. ‘We’d better go inside and take a look round.’
Flora handed her the key. ‘You go first, Cassy. Heaven knows what horrors lurk in there.’
She unlocked the door and pushed it open. The still air was musty with the hint of stale cooking smells, and a pile of circulars and pamphlets lay on the doormat, but as she crossed the threshold she was pleasantly surprised to find that the interior was in much better shape than the exterior. At the far end of a narrow hallway the fading daylight filtered through an arched window halfway up the staircase. The first door on the right led into a small parlour with a single tall window overlooking the street. Cassy looked round with an approving nod of her head. This would do, providing Flora did not object. The furniture was old-fashioned and rather shabby, but the armchairs by the fireplace looked comfortable, if a little saggy, and the chimney recesses were lined with bookshelves, although the owner had not left any books for them to read. A fire burning in the black cast-iron fireplace would make all the difference, she thought, glancing anxiously at Flora who was unusually quiet. Surely she could see that all the room needed to make it more homely and inviting were small personal touches: some ornaments on the mantelshelf and pretty pictures to cover the damp patches on the faded wallpaper.
Eli must have thought so too as he broke the silence. ‘This is a very nice parlour, ladies. I can just see you both sitting either side of the fire of an evening.’
Flora turned on him with a curl of her lip. ‘You have a vivid imagination, Solomon. My dressing room in Duke Street was bigger than this poky little hole.’
‘But it’s reasonably clean and the furniture is passably good,’ Belinda said with a cheerful smile. ‘What do you think, Cassy?’
‘It’s perfectly fine, Mama. I think we might be quite comfortable here.’
With a toss of her head, Flora led the way to the dining room, which was of similar size with a window overlooking a small garden, but the view across allotments beyond the garden wall was spoiled by four huge gasometers silhouetted against the darkening sky. ‘I don’t like this at all,’ Flora snorted. ‘It isn’t what I’ve been used to.’
‘I’m sure it’s only temporary, dear lady,’ Eli said cautiously. ‘Your fortunes will take a turn for the better, I hope.’
Flora turned on him with a stony stare, but Belinda moved swiftly between them. ‘There is another room to see before we go upstairs,’ she said lightly. ‘There seems to be a basement, which is probably the kitchen. Shall we go downstairs and have a look?’
‘I don’t need to see the servants’ quarters. I want to take a look at the bedrooms before I decide whether or not to take this doll’s house, and even then it will be on a purely temporary basis. Lead on, Lawson,’ Flora said, giving Cassy a none-too-gentle shove in the back. ‘You go first. I can’t abide spiders and cobwebs.’
‘She isn’t your servant, Flora,’ Belinda said sharply. ‘Please remember that Cassy is my daughter and should be treated as such.’
Cassy could see that Flora was going to argue. She shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter, Ma. I’m prepared to earn my keep, so if Mrs Fulford-Browne chooses to treat me like a servant, that’s up to her.’
‘At least someone has their priorities right,’ Flora said with a satisfied smirk. ‘Let’s go upstairs while we still have some daylight.’
Cassy led the way to the first floor where there were two bedrooms, the larger at the front of the house, which Flora reluctantly agreed might suit her well enough
, and a smaller room overlooking the garden, and, of course, the gasworks, which appeared even more foreboding as the light faded and gaslights flared in the compound. ‘This will have to do for you, Belinda,’ Flora said in a tone that brooked no argument. ‘The bed looks lumpy, and there is a frightful draught whistling through that ill-fitting window.’
‘I think it will suit me very well,’ Belinda said, squeezing Cassy’s hand. ‘Let’s go upstairs to the top floor and see which room you would like, my dear.’
‘I’m not trailing up there in the dark.’ Flora picked up her skirts. ‘Solomon, come downstairs with me. I want you to go out and find a cab to take us back to Whitechapel. I’ve had quite enough excitement for one day.’
Leaving Eli to follow Flora’s instructions, Cassy and Belinda ascended the steep staircase to the top floor where they found two smaller rooms. It was cold beneath the mansard roof, and the windowpanes were cracked and grimy. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling in the room at the back of the house. Empty boxes and tea chests were scattered about the floor, and it appeared that the former incumbent had used this space to store unwanted items. However, the room at the front was clean and boasted a single brass bedstead and a deal chest of drawers with a matching washstand.
‘It’s very nice,’ Cassy said, clutching her mother’s hand. ‘I’d be quite happy up here, Mama.’
‘You’re a good girl,’ Belinda said, raising Cassy’s hand to her cheek. ‘You haven’t once complained about the way you’ve been treated, nor have you ever criticised me for the neglect you suffered on my account. I don’t deserve a daughter like you.’
Cassy snatched her hand away only to throw her arms around her mother. ‘I love you, Mama. What happened in the past doesn’t matter a bit. We’ve found each other and I don’t care where we live as long as we can be together.’
Belinda fished in her pocket and brought out a handkerchief. She dabbed her eyes, sniffing and smiling through her tears. ‘Your papa would be so proud of you, Cassy.’
‘But you won’t tell me who he is.’
‘He died a hero, Cassy. I can’t bear to talk about it, even to you. One day, when the time is right, I’ll tell you everything, but until then I beg you to be patient, and be proud to be the daughter of a fine man.’
Cassy was about to press the matter further but the sound of Eli’s voice made them draw apart.
‘Lady Belle, Cassy. Mrs Brown wishes to leave now.’
‘We’re coming.’ Belinda brushed Cassy’s cheek with the lightest of kisses. ‘We mustn’t keep Flora waiting.’
They arrived back in Spectacle Alley to find Lottie waiting anxiously in the shop.
‘Why aren’t you at the hospital?’ Eli demanded. ‘Are you ill?’
‘No, Papa. There’s nothing wrong with me, but I am finished at the London.’
‘You’ve been dismissed?’ Eli said faintly. ‘Surely not. I can’t believe that a daughter of mine has suffered such a slight.’
Lottie’s serious expression melted into a wide grin. ‘No, Papa. I left of my own free will. Matron called me in to tell me that I’ve earned a place at the New Hospital for Women in Bloomsbury. I’m to study medicine just like Mrs Garrett Anderson. One day I’ll be a doctor, Papa.’
Cassy seized both her hands and danced Lottie round the shop floor, almost knocking over a dummy clad in a suit that Eli had been altering. ‘Congratulations,’ she cried. ‘Well done. I knew you’d do it one day, Lottie.’
Belinda clapped her hands. ‘This calls for a celebration, Eli. We should have wine so that we can toast your clever daughter.’
‘I’m not made of money,’ Flora said primly. ‘Don’t look at me.’
Belinda slipped off her gold wedding ring. ‘Take this to the pawnbroker, Cassy. Get what you can for it and we’ll spend the proceeds on a special supper with wine.’
‘I can’t allow you to do that, Lady Belle,’ Eli murmured, his eyes moist and his voice thick with emotion. ‘I will pay for the celebration.’
‘No need to waste money on food.’ Mrs Wilkins hobbled into the shop, wiping her hands on her apron. ‘Miss Lottie told me her good news and I’ve roasted a fowl with all the trimmings.’
‘Where did you come by the money to purchase poultry?’ Flora demanded. ‘And why are you still here? I was against you remaining here from the start.’
‘I said she could stay. It is my house, Mrs Brown,’ Eli said, eyeing Flora warily as if expecting her to strike him down. ‘I couldn’t turn them out on the streets, and she is a good cook. I haven’t eaten so well since . . .’ He broke off, biting his lip.
‘You are kindness itself,’ Belinda said hastily. ‘But are you sure you will have enough food to go round, Mrs Wilkins? I mean, a small boiling fowl has very little flesh on its bones.’
‘It seems that Mrs Brown has an admirer,’ Lottie said, winking at Cassy. ‘A gentleman calling himself Farmer Mullins left a large capon as a thank you for services rendered. I can’t think what they could be.’
Flora’s dumbfounded expression was enough to send Cassy into a fit of giggles, but somehow she managed to avoid Lottie’s eye and to curb her desire to laugh, although she could not quite control the tremor in her voice. ‘It must have been Farmer Mullins.’
‘Who is he?’ Belinda asked innocently. ‘Do you know him, Flora? A farmer?’
‘She prevented two farmers resorting to fisticuffs,’ Cassy explained as Flora appeared to have temporarily lost the power of speech. ‘I’m surprised that it wasn’t in the newspapers. There was quite a crowd outside the solicitor’s office in Lincoln’s Inn. They were squabbling over a real live calf. It was quite a sight.’
‘Well, there’s a fine supper come out of it. We’ll eat like royalty this evening and that’s the truth.’ Mrs Wilkins turned on her heel. ‘I’ve left Freddie in the kitchen, so you’d all best come before he gobbles the lot.’
‘I’ll go to the pub on the corner of Angel Alley and buy some wine,’ Eli said, making for the door. ‘We’ll toast your success, my love, and eat like royalty thanks to Mrs Brown.’
‘Mrs Fulford-Browne,’ Flora corrected, finding her voice at last. ‘As to Mullins, well, the man may be a peasant but he has manners, I’ll allow him that.’
‘And he obviously admires you, Flora,’ Belinda said with an innocent air that belied the mischievous twinkle in her eyes.
The move took several days and many trips to Pedlar’s Orchard with items that Flora insisted they could not live without. She took Belinda and Cassy on a spending spree that both alarmed and thrilled them. Belinda urged caution and Cassy could see that Flora’s quarterly allowance would not go far if she continued to squander it at this rate, but Flora was unrepentant. The curtains must be replaced with something more suitable. The bedding was probably riddled with bed bugs and lice, and needed to be replaced. The furniture would have to do for the time being, but silk cushions would make the chairs more comfortable and add colour to a drab room. She purchased pictures in gilded frames and silver candlesticks, although as a compromise she chose plate instead of solid silver. She insisted that fine bone china was an absolute necessity unless they wanted to live like artisans, but Belinda managed to persuade her to attend an auction sale. After some lively bidding, which Cassy was afraid was going to prove even more expensive as Flora was determined to outbid her rivals, she secured a dinner service and tea set with only a few cracked plates and five cups instead of six. Cassy found a set of bone-handled cutlery that was a fair copy of ivory, although not as desirable as silver, but by this time Flora was beginning to realise that she must cut her costs or they would have to live on bread and scrape for the remainder of the quarter.
It was decided that they would move into the house the day after Lottie left to take up her place as a medical student. It seemed to Cassy that it was an ending and a new beginning all rolled into one. She was sad to lose her dearest friend, but Lottie assured her that nothing would change between them. Cassy accompanied Lottie and her f
ather to Huntley Street and it was a tearful farewell, with hugs and kisses, tempered with promises to keep in touch. A uniformed doorman took Lottie’s luggage inside the hospital and she paused on the step, waving to them as the cab drove off. Cassy craned her neck to catch the last sight of her friend, who looked a tiny figure as she stood beneath the portal of the New Hospital. Eli blew his nose loudly. ‘My little girl,’ he murmured. ‘I’ll miss her, but it’s for the best. She’ll be a proper doctor. I’m so proud.’
‘She’ll do well,’ Cassy said softly. ‘And she’s not that far away. I’m sure she’ll visit you often.’
He nodded his head, but was obviously overcome with emotion and Cassy lapsed into silence, pretending not to notice when he blew his nose constantly in a vain attempt to staunch his tears.
The excitement of moving was overshadowed by Lottie’s leaving, and that evening Belinda insisted on taking them all to the Pavilion Theatre, where they saw Mr Isaac Cohen’s production of Little Red Riding Hood and the Goblin Wolf, with some subordinate acts of singers and a comedian whose crude jokes made Flora laugh quite uproariously. Cassy enjoyed herself hugely as this was her first experience of the theatre, but she noticed with some regret that her mother’s wedding ring was missing, and she realised that it had been pawned in order to pay for their night out. However, the desired effect had been achieved as Eli left the theatre with a smile on his face, and he walked back to Spectacle Alley with a lighter step.
The next day, travelling in two hackney carriages at Eli’s expense, they made their way to Pedlar’s Orchard. Flora, Belinda and Eli travelled in the first carriage with Cassy, Mrs Wilkins and Freddie following on in the second vehicle. Flora had decided that they needed a cook-general and that Mrs Wilkins had proved herself in the culinary department and would be an ideal person for the job, even if that meant taking Freddie in as well. Cassy was delighted with the arrangement, and the room next to the kitchen had been made ready with a single bed and a truckle bed for the boy.