The Innkeeper's Daughter

by Val Wood

  ‘She’s had to fight her corner, I agree,’ Hunter said. ‘She’s an indomitable woman from all accounts. What about you? Will you come?’

  Jamie pushed his chair away from the table. ‘I don’t know. I don’t feel that I’m ready yet. You’ve had more experience in the theatre than I have. I’m not sure I’m competent enough to saw off some poor devil’s leg.’

  ‘It’s not sawing off the leg that’s the worst part,’ Hunter admitted. ‘It’s watching them die from shock afterwards that gets to me.’

  The surgeon they were following was slick with the knife. He didn’t hesitate. The patient was held down and the appendage was off and in the waiting basket before the sufferer realized what was happening. Jamie, on the other hand, knew if he were that surgeon he would mull over the consequences, debating whether or not the patient might survive if he tried to save the limb.

  Four months, he considered. Hunter would have taken his finals, but as he had started later he wouldn’t have taken his. The war might be over before he was fully qualified, and he rather hoped it would be. He had no desire to practise in his early professional life on vulnerable fighting men.

  He’d received a letter from his brother Felix bemoaning the fact that he was having to keep the estate going single-handed as their father was ill again, ‘or he says he is,’ he’d added. ‘I rather think he’s enjoying ill health.’

  Which didn’t sound at all like his father, Jamie pondered, and wished that their old doctor, Birchfield, who had looked after his mother, was still in the district; but he had left Holderness and gone to live with his sister in Hull, where he was influential and well respected for his work at the Infirmary.

  Jamie had written back and said he would come again when he could, but probably not until after his finals. Unless, he’d added, Felix thought their father’s illness was severe or chronic. He had travelled back to Yorkshire the previous Easter but the house was gloomy, his sisters hadn’t been there and he couldn’t help but reflect on the remembrance of how it used to be.

  If Felix should marry things might improve, he thought. The house needs a woman’s touch, and though Mrs Greenwood did her best, it wasn’t her house to do with as she might have wished. But his brother, to Jamie’s knowledge, had no interest in marriage. Indeed, Jamie thought it was highly unlikely that Felix would appeal to any young lady unless there was one who would have him for his fortune and not mind his dour personality.

  Jamie decided that on his next visit home he would call first on their former doctor; he had his address somewhere, or at least could easily find it, and ask him if he had any idea what his father’s malady might be.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  ANOTHER LETTER CAME from William just before Christmas. ‘I’d hoped to get home,’ he wrote, ‘but we’ve been ordered to keep to barracks in case we have to move off abroad. I’ve been transferred to another regiment. 19th Foot. They needed recruits to fight in Crimea so I volunteered. I shall see some action an’ mebbe I was a bit hasty on reflection, but better to go willingly and I’ll probably get promotion. Can’t say I’m looking forward to it; they’re saying it’ll be very bloody with them Russkies, but it’s done now. Anyway, don’t worry, Ma: you know I’m allus lucky.’

  But they did worry of course. The newspapers were full of the impending battle in the Crimea and of the tens of thousands of infantrymen and thousands of cavalry who would be leaving British shores, many of them never to come back.

  Bella and her mother had expected that it would be a quiet Christmas without Joe and Alice, so on Christmas Day they invited Reuben to eat with them. They invited Adam, too, who was now a permanent fixture every night on the kitchen floor in front of the range since Bella had invited him to stay whilst her mother was away at the Woodman. ‘It wasn’t that I was nervous,’ she’d explained on Sarah’s return, ‘but I felt that I might have been vulnerable on my own.’

  ‘You did right,’ Sarah said. ‘Especially as folks knew that Joe had gone away and I wasn’t here either. Besides, Adam seems a reliable lad, and very willing. How come he’s on his own? Does he ever say?’

  He never had and even Reuben didn’t know, although he said he’d known him for quite a few years; he’d often seen him in the streets of Hull, never begging, and always willing to work for a copper. It seemed that any money he earned went towards a bath at the bathhouse once a week if he could afford it.

  On Boxing Day Bella asked Adam to help her shift some barrels down in the cellar before they opened up. In spite of being so thin and lanky he was surprisingly strong and Bella commented on it.

  He laughed and said, ‘My ma allus said that though I was as thin as a streak o’ tap water I didn’t know my own strength.’

  ‘I’ve not heard you mention your mother before,’ she said. ‘Have you been orphaned long?’

  He hesitated, and when he spoke, his voice was husky. ‘I’m not an orphan. My ma’s alive and so are my two sisters. They’re in ’workhouse. My da left after my youngest sister was born. That was four years ago.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Bella began. ‘But why aren’t you—’

  ‘Why aren’t I there wi’ them?’ he finished for her. ‘I was ten when he went. Ma worked for a bit at one of ’mills and I looked after ’little bairns, but there was never enough money to pay ’rent and feed us all and then she was laid off so there was no money coming in at all.’

  ‘So she had to go to ’workhouse? But you didn’t?’

  ‘No.’ He hung his head. ‘I said I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t have seen my ma anyway. They don’t put bairns with their parents. They have separate dormitories. But because I was ten I’d have had to pick oakum and I decided that I’d rather tek my chance out on ’streets. I’ve been lucky,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Not as badly off as some. I know a lad who’s just gone to prison for stealing from a butcher cos his family was starving; I don’t know what he’ll do when he comes out cos he’ll never get a job now. But I’ve allus been able to mek a copper or two and I can tek money or extra food in to my ma to supplement what she gets in ’workhouse.’

  ‘And your sisters?’ she asked. ‘What do they do? Do they get well fed?’

  ‘They get enough,’ he said. ‘They won’t starve and they’re too young to work, but when they’re old enough I’ll look out for work for them.’

  ‘So you’ve been living on ’streets for how long?’

  ‘Just over three years. But it’s all right,’ he added in a positive manner, as if saying she didn’t have to worry about him. ‘An’ – and I’m really grateful that you’ve allowed me to stop in front o’ fire, but you must say when you want me to leave and I won’t hold a grudge, honest I won’t.’

  So many poor, hard-done-by people, Bella thought. Just like Alice’s family used to be, but now how things have looked up for them. She recalled Alice’s father and how ill liked he was. But perhaps it wasn’t all his fault, she thought. Maybe it was his circumstances, all those children and poorly paid work that made him so angry and powerless that he took his resentment out on his wife and family.

  ‘Let’s just roll this other barrel,’ she said. ‘Careful now, don’t shake it.’ She straightened up. ‘And you don’t have to think of moving out, Adam. Not over winter, unless you want to of course. You’re proving very useful to us.’

  By the spring, the renovations were under way. When they measured up there was enough room for four bedrooms in what had been the loft, two large and two smaller ones, because, as Sarah pointed out, there might come a time when William might want to give up his military career and come home. ‘Then I’ll have a son at home again,’ she said.

  Henry looked at her. ‘But I’m your son, aren’t I?’ he asked. ‘Or am I Bella’s?’

  ‘No, course you’re mine,’ Sarah said indulgently. ‘I meant a grown-up son to help in ’pub. You’re still a bairn, not long breeched.’

  ‘I am breeched,’ Henry said indignantly. ‘I’ve been breeched for ages! And ’Maritime isn�
��t a public house. It’s going to be a hotel, Bella said so.’ He drew himself up to his full height, stretching his shorter leg. ‘But I won’t be working here. I’m going to be a teacher and have my own school.’

  Bella smiled in delight whilst her mother raised her eyebrows and said, ‘La-di-da!’

  Sarah had agreed that she might need some help with the baking once the hotel was up and running, and at last seemed to realize that they would be managing a different establishment entirely from the one she had originally envisaged. ‘I don’t know, Bella,’ she said anxiously. ‘Are we biting off more than we can chew? What do we know about overseeing such a place? We’re onny innkeepers, after all.’

  ‘We’ll learn as we go along, Ma,’ Bella assured her. ‘We know about feeding people and looking after them an’ if we give them what they want and expect, and make them welcome, it should be all right. We know what we’d want, a warm and comfortable bed, a hearty breakfast, all things like that.’

  ‘Oh, aye, we can do that,’ her mother agreed. ‘But not just ’two of us.’

  ‘No, that’s right, we can’t. I’ve made a list,’ Bella told her, and brought out a sheet of notepaper from her pocket. ‘I keep adding to it,’ she murmured. ‘But this is what I’ve got so far.’

  Sarah sighed and sat down, and waited patiently whilst her daughter came up with her latest plan.

  ‘If, say, we have a married couple staying, then we’d give them a double bed, which would mean one set of sheets to be washed and another set ready for the next occupants, and we’ll need good quality cotton, not fustian. Then, if we had, say, two young women staying, or a young lady with a maid,’ here Bella hesitated, not really knowing what an upper-class female might require, ‘we’d give them two single beds and that would mean sheets for each bed plus another pair for each bed for ’next customers. Could we manage that, do you think?’ she said anxiously. ‘It seems like a lot of laundry.’

  ‘Give it here.’ Her mother put out her hand for the list. ‘Let’s have a look. You’re assuming that all ’beds will be filled all of ’time.’

  She perused it carefully, wrinkling her nose as she read. ‘Well,’ she said at last, ‘I think we need to speak to Reuben about this and find out who does his washing; either that or we send it to ’Chinese laundry.’

  Bella laughed. ‘I was hoping that’s what you might say. There’s one just a couple of streets away. I’ll call in and ask how much he’ll charge.’

  In truth, there was more to be done than she had first thought. But she was very excited. Their bedrooms were almost finished; the decorators were in and painting the walls with a soft creamy-coloured distemper and as soon as that was dry their beds would be moved up and work would begin on turning their former bedrooms into suitable guest rooms. Gas was to be piped upstairs into those rooms for lighting; new furniture – beds, wardrobes and wash stands – would be bought and then the extra little touches, flowered curtains and matching bedspreads, water jugs, bowls and personal pottery; and new crockery too, for Bella hoped to offer morning tea or breakfast in bed for those who wanted it. Am I, she wondered, as my mother suggested, biting off more than I can chew?

  But there was something in her, a persistence of purpose, which made her determined to prove herself; she had been thwarted in her original intention of becoming a schoolteacher, but this challenge was one she knew she could face, and with more than a little effort, come what may, she would succeed.

  As news got round that the Maritime was to become an hotel, they were besieged daily by local tradespeople: a queue of grocers, bakers, butchers and fishmongers, many of them bringing samples of their wares. They ate free for a week by trying out all the produce, and Bella further added to her list of suitable suppliers.

  The builder, Benton, who had put up the walls in the loft to make separate bedrooms, came up with a suggestion when he saw Bella looking worried one afternoon and she told him that she was anxious not to lose any of the regular customers who came to drink in the saloon; some of them had asked her if they would still be able to drink there once the Maritime became an hotel. She had assured them that they would always be welcome, that they were the lifeblood of their trade, but nevertheless it had set her wondering whether they might lose them.

  Benton proposed knocking down the top half of the wall in the side room, currently serving as a male-only bar, so that the counter staff in the saloon could serve both sides. ‘Then,’ he said, ‘I could put up a small lobby by the front door where you could have a reception desk to greet ’hotel customers.’

  ‘But that would take ages to do,’ Bella said. ‘And ’customers wouldn’t want any more upheaval than they’ve already had.’

  ‘No,’ he told her. ‘If you were willing I could come in one Sunday morning, cos you’re closed on a Sunday, aren’t you? It’s onny a lath-and-plaster wall, it’ll come down in no time, then we’d get it plastered up and painted. You might like to get a glass screen to partially obscure one side from the other, I know somebody who could do that, and then get a joiner to mek a partition for a lobby. That could be done while we’re doing ’building work. It could be all finished by ’end of ’day, give or tek a bit of decorating.’

  It sounded like a good idea to Bella, but she knew she’d have to get permission from the brewery first and she thought that Mr Allen and Mr Newby might be getting sick of her and her schemes.

  ‘I’ll let you know,’ she told him. ‘When can you start if we decide to go ahead?’

  ‘Straight away,’ he said. ‘I’ll give you a price. I’ll make it favourable. I need the work.’

  Bella sent Adam straight away with a written proposal to Allen and Newby and the next day Mr Newby called to see her.

  ‘It seems like a sensible proposition,’ she told him. ‘We don’t want to lose our existing customers, but if we are to make something of the Maritime as a proper hotel it must look like one as soon as guests enter.’

  ‘I think you’re exactly right,’ he agreed, much to her surprise. ‘I’ve heard many comments that the town hasn’t enough accommodation to take all the visitors who’ll flock here to see the queen when she comes. It’s a pity,’ he added, ‘that the Maritime isn’t twice the size.’

  ‘But then it might remain empty after they’ve gone,’ she pointed out. ‘Better that we have to turn people away and they know how popular we are, than have accommodation going begging.’

  Newby nodded, a smile hovering on his lips. ‘For one so young you are remarkably perceptive, Miss Thorp.’

  ‘So we have your approval?’ she asked. ‘And help towards the cost?’

  He sighed. ‘It seems you can twist us round your little finger, but yes. Shall we say fifty-fifty?’

  ‘Thank you. I’ll have an agreement drawn up.’ She smiled. ‘And let you have a copy.’

  ‘My word, Bella,’ her mother said, after Newby had left; she had been listening as she brought bread and cheese and pork pies to the counter, placing them under domed glass dishes. ‘You’ll have us either bankrupt or millionaires.’

  ‘Neither of those, Ma,’ Bella told her; she’d calculated from what they were already earning and was positive they could take the chances. ‘But we’ll make a good living.’

  Once Hunter had gone to the Crimea, which he did as soon as he qualified and could call himself Dr Maugham-Hunt, having taking the Licence of the Society of Apothecaries and membership of the Royal College of Surgeons, Jamie rarely went out, but applied himself constantly to his studies. There were no women on this course to distract him, which he thought was rather a pity for he enjoyed female company, particularly that of intelligent women who could discuss almost anything without any embarrassment of their sex. At some of the colleges he had met plain yet animated women, whose faces had lit up with fervour; pretty women who were deadly serious in discourse, serious women who were bound to succeed in their chosen career, providing they could find a male partner to help further it. But here, in the clinical study of medicine, there
was no place for women for it was considered unsuitable for their delicate sensibilities.

  ‘As soon as you’re qualified,’ Hunter insisted, ‘you must come out and join me. I’ll let you know where I am. It will probably be Scutari, or I might even get to Sevastopol. It will be great experience for us.’

  ‘Yes, doctor!’ Jamie had replied wryly, but as he studied well into the night with his head propped on his hand, he was unsure of the prospect. He was pleased that he had changed course to become a surgeon apothecary rather than a physician, for he knew that he would have felt guilty at living in an elegant area or sitting in a modish consulting room waiting on the whims of patients with money to spend on illnesses perhaps brought on by fine living and excessive lifestyles. I would far rather dispense advice and medication or set broken bones and deal with other injuries. But, he mused, I don’t know if I want to go to war. There are very many sick and desperate people in England needing our services without travelling abroad to find them. He sighed and turned a page of his textbook. First pass your exams, Lucan, he told himself. Don’t live in your dreams.

  On the day after he finished his final exams, he walked by the Thames. He hadn’t been down there for some time but it was a bright breezy day and he was sorely in need of a change of scenery. On this day the water was running fast and strong and the stench he had encountered on previous occasions was much less noisome, although he saw the swollen body of a dead dog floating past and then a wooden crate which, no doubt, someone further along the bank would eagerly snag, dry out and use for firewood. Little was wasted, he knew; poverty and hardship were rife and people did what they could to survive.

  Jamie leaned on a low wall and watched the shipping going past, their canvas sails full as the breeze buffeted them. He sighed. The waiting time for his results was going to be the most difficult part. He thought he might have passed, although the papers had been demanding; some of his peers had groaned and said they hadn’t understood half of them, whilst others airily exclaimed that they had been easy. The former tended to be sincere in their desire to help the sick and less able, but lacked the advantage of a good education in science, logic or languages. On the other hand, many of the latter group came from wealthy backgrounds, and had little interest in medicine as a career, treating the period of study as an excuse for drinking and debauchery. Neither of those applies to me, he thought as the sharp wind ruffled his hair and made his eyes water, so I must wait and see, and also wait on a letter from Hunter which has not yet arrived as promised, and then take the decision whether or not to join him out in the Crimea, if in fact he has arrived there; and if I do join him, what next after that? Will we stay here in London? There are plenty of areas where we might set up in practice together where the need is great: the docklands, for instance, are crying out for doctors, he mused.