Love or Duty

by Roberta Grieve

  ‘It was a good evening though. You danced a lot with Mr Willis, didn’t you?’ Peggy grinned. ‘The old dears in the corner were talking about you. They definitely hear wedding bells.’

  ‘Don’t be so silly, Peggy. He’s off to Africa any day now and, besides, a couple of dances at a church hop don’t mean anything. Those old ladies are always gossiping and matchmaking and my stepmother’s the worst of the lot.’ It occurred to her that Dora might be keen to get rid of her but she dismissed the thought. Who would do the running round after her if she left home? Certainly not Sarah, who had her sights set on her musical career.

  But much as she longed for an escape from the narrowness of her life and the increasing demands of her selfish stepmother, she could not imagine being a missionary’s wife – especially if that man was the rather earnest Keith Willis.

  Peggy sighed. ‘I can’t wait to get married. When John’s ship gets back to Portsmouth, we’ll set the date. I wish you were engaged, then we could have a double wedding.’ She put the clean crockery in the cupboard and turned to her friend. ‘Isn’t there anyone…?’

  Louise hadn’t confided her feelings for Andrew to anyone, not even her friend. She was about to answer when the door to the kitchen swung open.

  ‘All done, ladies?’ Keith asked. ‘Come along then and I’ll lock up.’

  Peggy’s parents were waiting in the porch and Louise looked round for her family.

  ‘They’ve gone on ahead,’ said Mrs Fryer. ‘Your mother was feeling tired. We’ll walk you home.’

  Keith turned from locking the hall door. ‘No need for you to go out of your way, Mrs Fryer,’ he said. ‘I’ll walk along with Miss Charlton.’

  ‘I’ll be all right. It’s not far and it’s a fine night,’ Louise protested as she caught Peggy’s knowing glance.

  ‘Nonsense you can’t walk through the streets alone.’ Keith pocketed the keys and took her arm.

  Not wanting to make a fuss, Louise said goodnight to the Fryers. She was acutely embarrassed and resented Keith’s proprietary air.

  They walked along in silence for a few moments until Keith spoke. ‘Your stepmother relies on you a lot doesn’t she?’ he asked.

  ‘I suppose so, especially when she’s unwell. But to be honest with you, I often wish I had more to occupy my time.’ She sighed. ‘I used to dream of helping in my father’s business but Mother won’t hear of it.’

  ‘I must say I agree with her. But I do understand your need to employ yourself.’

  ‘I do the church flowers and help with the Sunday school, and I do hospital visiting but sometimes it’s not enough.’ Louise was surprised to find herself confiding in him. She rarely acknowledged her discontent out loud.

  He squeezed her arm. ‘I feel the same. That’s why I’m so excited about the mission. I know I can do good work out there.’

  ‘Not long now,’ Louise said.

  ‘I wish I wasn’t going alone.’ He hesitated. ‘I need – a helpmeet, a companion….’

  Louise stopped walking and turned towards him. ‘What do you mean?’

  He blushed and stammered. ‘I had dared to hope … Miss Charlton – Louise – I have come to care for you. I would be greatly honoured …’

  Louise shook her head. ‘I didn’t realize….’ It was true. She hadn’t taken Peggy’s teasing or the church ladies’ gossip seriously. He was gazing at her earnestly.

  She should have said no straight away but Keith must have seen her hesitation as encouragement. As they reached the front gate of Steyne House she was still trying to think of a way to let him down gently. But as she was about to speak, he grabbed both her arms and said, breathlessly, ‘You will say yes, won’t you?’

  Before she could answer he lunged at her. Startled, she jerked her head away so that his lips missed their target. His mouth left a wet smear on her cheek and, trying not to show her revulsion, she laughed nervously. ‘Goodnight, Mr Willis.’ She turned and went indoors quickly.

  She leaned against the closed door shaking and scrubbed at her face with a handkerchief, thankful that the kiss hadn’t touched her lips. The thought of that wet mouth fastened over hers made her stomach heave. She’d been kissed before and had found the sensation pleasant, sometimes even exciting. But, she vowed, Keith Willis would not be allowed to kiss her again. The next time she saw him it would be to firmly decline his offer of marriage. Staying in Holton and being at Dora’s beck and call was infinitely preferable to marrying a man she did not love.

  The house was in darkness and Louise crept upstairs to her turret room. As she passed Sarah’s door, her sister called out. ‘Where have you been, Lou?’

  ‘It took ages clearing up.’

  At Sarah’s low chuckle, she opened the door and went in. In the light of the gas lamp outside the house she saw her sister sitting up in bed.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ she asked.

  ‘You didn’t spend all this time just clearing up. Besides, I looked out of the window just now and saw you with Mr Willis.’ She giggled. ‘He kissed you – I saw.’

  Louise blushed. ‘So what?’

  ‘Did he ask you to marry him, to go to Africa with him?’ She giggled again. ‘How exciting. Did you say yes?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But, Lou. It’s your chance to get away. You can’t stay in dreary old Holton forever.’ She threw her arms above her head and stretched. ‘I’ll be gone as soon as I get the chance and I hate the thought of you being stuck here.’

  ‘No, Sarah. I don’t love him and I don’t think I’d make a good missionary’s wife either.’ She was reluctant to admit her real reason for hesitating. It wasn’t just the revulsion his kiss had evoked, it was the thought that if it had been Andrew Tate kissing her, her reaction would have been completely different.

  A few days later, as Louise watched Keith take old Miss Bunyan’s arm and help her to the church door, she still hadn’t had a chance to make her position clear. She was glad her father was waiting outside with the car so that she could avoid him a little longer. Since Miss Bunyan’s fall on the ice on her way back from the shops the previous winter, she had been unable to walk any distance and the Charltons had taken her under their wing, inviting her to Sunday lunch after Matins each week.

  As Keith solicitously assisted Miss Bunyan into the car, Louise wished she could feel more for him. Despite her admiration for his dedication, she knew that she could never consider him as a husband.

  Now, as she climbed into the car next to Miss Bunyan, she thanked him gravely, careful not to smile in case he interpreted it as a further sign of encouragement. Sarah squeezed in beside her, stifling a giggle.

  As they drove away, Dora spoke her mind. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with you, Louise. He’s a perfectly eligible young man.’ Her tone said that Louise would be lucky to get another chance.

  ‘I don’t want to marry him, Mother. And I don’t see myself as a missionary’s wife either.’ She nudged Sarah, who was about to say something. She was still annoyed with her sister for telling Dora about Keith’s proposal.

  ‘Nonsense, my dear. You’d make an excellent job of it,’ Dora declared.

  Louise held her tongue. It was the first time she could remember her stepmother ever saying anything so encouraging. But whatever anyone said, she’d rather remain a spinster. If she ended up like old Miss Bunyan so be it. At the thought, she acknowledged once more that her determination to remain single had less to do with Keith Willis than it did with Andrew Tate. But she had not seen the young doctor since the night of the church social. So why could she not forget him?

  Perhaps she should have agreed to go with Keith to Africa. What was there for her in Holton, after all?

  Sarah was now well on her way to a successful singing career, while she was still at home, not allowed a career of her own. Since Sarah’s success Dora’s health seemed to have miraculously improved and she always seemed well enough to accompany her daughter to auditions or recording sessions. Managing Sarah�
�s career brought a flush of excitement to Dora’s cheeks, a sparkle to her blue eyes. Nowadays there were fewer complaints about her poor head and her utter exhaustion, brought on, she’d always said, by the pressures of running the household.

  Instead, with Dora away chaperoning her daughter, or busy writing letters and making telephone calls, most of these duties fell to Louise. She quite enjoyed talking to Cookie about the menus and managing the household budget. But she wondered cynically why Dora had found it so ‘exhausting’. In fact, once she’d given Cook and Polly their orders for the day and checked on Fred’s progress in the garden, there was little to do in the house. And although she had also replaced her stepmother on the church flower rota and taken over her hospital visiting, in addition to Sunday school teaching, she was bored.

  If only she was allowed to get a proper job like so many of her school friends. Peggy had trained to be a school teacher and now taught at a village school not far away from Holton, although she would have to give it up when she married. And some of the other girls had become nurses or worked in shops.

  But Dora insisted that ladies didn’t work. It wasn’t as if they needed the money. Not for the first time Louise wished she’d been born a boy so that she could follow her father into the family business. She had a feeling that Stanley would like to have her working with him. But as always, he deferred to his wife and gently told Louise ‘Your mother needs you at home.’

  As usual when her household duties were done, Louise was bored and restless. What should she do with herself for the rest of the day? Sarah was at singing practice and Dora, after a busy morning writing letters confirming engagements for future concerts, was lying down. Stanley was at the office as usual and the house was quiet.

  Louise sighed and decided to go for a walk. As she opened the door into the hall, Polly came running along the passage from the kitchen at the back of the house. Her face was flushed and her cap askew.

  ‘Oh, Miss, come quick. Cook’s had a fall – she’s hurt real bad.’ The maid clutched at Louise’s arm.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I’m not sure, Miss. I came in and found her lying on the floor. She’s in terrible pain.’

  Louise gently removed Polly’s clutching hand and hurried into the kitchen. A quick glance at the overturned stool, the broken jar and spilled flour told her what had happened. She knelt beside the still figure. ‘Cookie, tell me – where does it hurt?’

  Cook opened her eyes and moved a hand. ‘I can’t move me leg, Miss,’ she said between gasps of pain.

  ‘Lie still, we’ll fetch the doctor,’ Louise said. She pulled the tattered old cushion off the chair by the range, put it under the old woman’s head and told Polly to fetch a blanket. She sat on the floor holding her hand and gently stroking strands of hair away from her face. Cook’s eyes had closed again and she was breathing raggedly.

  When Polly came back she tucked the blanket round the still form. ‘Stay with her while I telephone the doctor,’ she ordered.

  Old Dr Tate listened while she explained what had happened. ‘It sounds as if she’ll need to go to hospital. I’ll make arrangements then pop round,’ he said.

  He arrived at the same time as the ambulance and decided to go to the hospital with her. ‘I’ll let you know how she is later on,’ he told Louise, touching her shoulder briefly before following the stretcher out of the front door.

  She must tell Mother what had happened, Louise thought. But first she must make sure Polly was all right. The poor girl looked thoroughly shaken up when she returned to the kitchen and promptly burst into tears before sinking into Cook’s chair – a sure sign of how upset she was.

  ‘What are we going to do, Miss?’ she sobbed.

  ‘Well, first of all, you’re going to make a pot of tea while I go up and tell Mother about the accident. I’m surprised she didn’t come down to see what all the fuss was about. Then we’re going to sit down and work out what we’re going to give the Master and Miss Sarah for their supper when they get home.’

  ‘But I can’t cook, Miss. I know I ’elps Cook out but I only does what she tells me. I can’t manage on me own.’

  ‘I can’t cook very well either, but I’m sure we’ll manage together.’ Louise patted Polly’s arm reassuringly and left the room.

  ‘I thought that stupid girl had gone and broken something again when I heard the noise,’ Dora said.

  Louise explained that Cookie had been taken to hospital.

  ‘How are we going to manage?’ Dora cried, her hysterics rivalling Polly’s when she realized they would have no one to cook for them. ‘We’ll have to engage someone to take her place,’ she decided when at last she had calmed down.

  ‘I’m sure that won’t be necessary, Mother. It may only be for a short while and Polly and I can manage between us.’

  Dora gave a little snort of disbelief and Louise felt the familiar churning in her stomach. Well, she’d show Mother that she could manage. It was true, she hadn’t much experience of cooking and she wouldn’t be able to match Cook’s delicious pies and pastries. But surely she could produce some sort of meal for them. Clearly Mother was in no state to do so, although privately Louise thought she probably had more knowledge of practical household jobs than she let on. She was sure that Dora, as an impoverished pianist, hadn’t employed servants before she married Father.

  Sarah returned home just as Louise had managed to get Polly sufficiently organized to peel some potatoes for supper. The sight of her sister standing at the big scrubbed table in the kitchen, wrapped in one of Cook’s large white aprons and busily buttering thin slices of bread for Mother’s tea took her aback for a moment. But she soon recovered on being told that she would be allowed to eat her tea in the kitchen – in defiance of Dora’s strict injunction that Cook’s accident must not be an excuse for any slackening of standards on Louise’s part.

  Louise took Dora’s tray up herself, hoping that her stepmother would remain in her room until Father returned from business. Boredom had fled and she found she was, rather guiltily, enjoying the crisis. Sarah, eating her tea in the kitchen and listening round-eyed to Polly’s dramatic description of the accident, seemed to think it was rather fun too, despite her sympathy for poor Cookie.

  When Dr Tate called in on his way back from the hospital his face was grave. Miss Rogers had broken her hip, a very serious injury in a woman of her years. Louise looked startled for a moment. She hadn’t heard Cookie referred to as Miss Rogers for a long time. She had lived with the family for so long, since before Louise had been born, and no one called her by her real name any more. It was sad really, Louise reflected – as if the doctor were talking about someone else. She hastily gave her attention to what he was saying, her heart sinking when he told her it was unlikely Miss Rogers would make a full recovery. She would probably not be able to work again.

  ‘I’m sorry about the meal, Father,’ Louise apologized as they finished their supper of cold meat and pickles with mashed potatoes. ‘It was the best I could do in the circumstances.’

  Stanley looked up from his plate. ‘There’s no need to apologize. It was delicious.’ He took another mouthful and laid his knife and fork neatly on the plate. ‘We must all pull together in a crisis, mustn’t we, my dear?’ He looked across at Dora, who was picking at her food. ‘How long is Cookie going to be laid up?’ he asked.

  Louise had already told him what the doctor had said and her earlier conviction that he hadn’t really been listening was confirmed. It wasn’t like Father to be so vague but she had noticed it a lot lately. His mind always seemed to be elsewhere and she had often caught him sitting at his desk in the study gazing out of the window.

  When Dora answered sharply that she had already informed him of the need to look for a replacement cook, he shook his head. ‘Oh no, my dear, that won’t do at all. We can’t possibly take on someone else.’

  Louise smiled. Father obviously hadn’t understood and thought this was only a temporary hitch in t
he smooth running of the household. She also knew he had rather a soft spot for Bessie Rogers, not to mention her delicious pastry. Before she could speak however, Dora put him in the picture.

  ‘I thought I had explained, Stanley. Cook will not be coming back. It’s time she retired anyway. I’ll get on to the agency in the morning and start interviewing replacements.’

  ‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Dora.’ Stanley’s voice was firm and his wife’s eyes widened. He cut off her protest with a raised hand. ‘I’m sorry, my dear. I hate to say this, but the time has come for us to make certain economies. I had hoped to avoid anything as drastic as cutting the staff and of course I wouldn’t dream of turning Cook away from what, after all, has been her home for nearly thirty years. But in a way this accident has happened at a rather opportune moment.’

  Louise gasped. ‘Opportune? Father, have you forgotten that poor Cookie is lying in hospital in great pain?’

  ‘Forgive me, Louise. I didn’t mean to sound callous.’ He pushed his plate away and ran his hands through his hair. ‘Oh dear. I wish I hadn’t had to spring this on you.’ He took a deep breath. ‘The fact is, things are not going well with the business. I’m sure it’s only temporary but, until things look up – we shall have to be careful.’

  ‘I don’t understand, Stanley. What about your investments?’ Dora’s face was white and her plump hand went to her throat.

  Hesitantly, Stanley explained that the nationwide slump had begun to affect his business. And the Wall Street crash some years before, which was still affecting Britain, had sent his shares plummeting.

  ‘But surely, Father, the building trade is thriving, despite other industries suffering from the slump? There are houses going up in Holton all the time,’ Louise protested.

  ‘That’s true, my dear. But building is only one aspect of my business interests and I’m afraid one can no longer afford to subsidise the other.’

  Dora gave a little sob and Stanley hastened to reassure her. ‘As I said, my love, it’s only a temporary setback. Things will pick up soon. But you can understand why I cannot contemplate engaging another cook at the moment. And I’ve also been thinking of letting Fred go. We will just have to manage for the time being.’