To Catch a Dream

by Mary Wood

  ‘Aye, you can, love, but don’t rush at her. Hug her gently, as she’s poorly at the moment.’

  Watching them hold each other brought the tears to Issy’s eyes, and she waited a while before she approached. When she did, shock held her rigid. Open sores covered Bridie’s gaunt face, and her lovely eyes held pain. The lids, red and swollen, wept yellow matter, and her eyelashes were thick and crusted.

  ‘Oh, Bridie, love.’ Bridie didn’t speak, but her head nodded and her dry lips formed a little smile. Issy took her arm. ‘Come on, love, let’s get to the cafe and get you a drink and something to eat, eh?’

  They walked in silence, and Issy found it hard to think of something to say. Settling them both down in the cafe helped to give them a distraction. She picked up the menu. ‘What would you like, Bridie love? They have a meat pie on. How about that, eh? It’ll lie in yer, if their other stuff’s owt to go by, and they don’t skimp on the filling of pies.’

  ‘Just a cup of tea will be doing me for now.’

  ‘Alreet, love.’ Issy ordered the tea from the counter. ‘I got you one of those gingerbread men, Bridget – you like them. And a glass of milk.’ Bridget didn’t reply. Her eyes stared at Bridie and she clung on to her hand. This put a fear into Issy. What if what Bridie had was catching? She decided to leave it be. It would be cruel to do otherwise. Instead, she turned her attention to Bridie. ‘Eeh, Bridie, you’re not looking well, lass. Are you not eating? I know it’s slop as they give you, but you need sommat to give you strength.’

  ‘I can’t eat. When I try it just comes back up.’

  ‘Does a doctor come round?’

  ‘Aye, the one who works in the hospital. He holds a surgery once a week, but ’tis the wrath of the matron you bring down on yourself if you line up to see him with complaints that could have been brought on by the conditions. She’s a vixen, so she is. I’m after having enough on me plate without—’

  The banging down of the tray on the table cut into Bridie’s words. The waitress had a look of contempt in her eyes as she said, ‘Scum! Drink your tea quick and get yourselves gone. We don’t want the likes of you in here!’

  This shocked Issy to the core. She felt her mouth drop open, then an anger came into her, but before she could speak Bridie said, ‘No, Issy. No, don’t be saying anything. It’ll not be you she’s wanting out. ’Tis because of me coming from workhouse.’

  With the uniform Bridie had to wear, and the look of her, there was no mistaking where she came from. But that didn’t give them the right . . .

  ‘You’ve taken our money, and we’re going to drink our tea as fast as we can, but not cos you say so; cos we don’t stay in places where those as serve are kettles calling the pot black. Look to yourself, lass, cos with a face like you’ve got, no one else will!’

  Red in the face, the waitress stood there for a moment huffing and puffing, until she realized she had no retort. She turned and stomped back to the counter.

  ‘Jumped-up little rat – how dare she? Her knickers must be too tight for her, is all I can say. Why else would she have such a pinched-up face?’

  A pitiful sob came from Bridie. Issy was mortified. ‘Eeh, Bridie, don’t let it upset yer, love.’

  ‘I have to get out, Issy, I have to.’

  ‘No, love, drink your tea first. Sod Lady Muck. She can’t hurt yer.’

  ‘No, I’m meaning the workhouse. I have to get out, or me death will come sooner rather than later. I’m not for standing it any longer, Issy. I’m going out of me mind with it.’

  ‘But how, love? I’ve tried talking to Mr Harvey, but he’s a bitter man. He says all the things that you said about him killed his wife. Oh, I know that’s not rational, and those who take on like that after a death of someone they love are just shifting the blame for their own guilt. Anyroad, he won’t listen. And . . . well, I know it sounds cowardly, but when he said sommat to Tom about me asking, he indicated as he’d see the back of us if I said owt more on the subject. I can’t risk it. I can’t have Tom lose the job he loves.’

  ‘Oh, Issy, I’d not want that. You and Tom have been for the saving of me, and me little Bridget. If you hadn’t taken her in, she’d have not lasted in that place, and that would have ended me life, so it would. But would you help me, Issy? It has to be today. I have to take me Bridget and get a train to Sheffield. Beth is doing well now, so she is. She has a little business. She will take care of me. I was after asking her to visit me in me last letter, but I dare not tell her the truth of how I am, as those beggars are for reading mail before it leaves the place.’

  ‘What are you asking of me, Bridie?’

  ‘I’m just in need of the train fare. After you see me on the train, ’tis that you can go home. And when they come calling, tell them I never showed, so you were thinking they weren’t for letting me out.’

  ‘But what if they want to see Bridget?’ Panic hit Issy. This was all so sudden that she couldn’t think straight. Something inside of her told her she must do it, and that she was to find a way to, because as sure as the sun rises each morning, Bridie wouldn’t last another year in that place. ‘Look, I’m not saying no, Bridie. I just need time to mull it over. Let’s go for a walk. Are you up to that, love? Maybe it will give you an appetite and we can find another cafe and have something to eat, eh?’

  With the streets busy, they walked at a slow pace. People carrying shopping, others in their gardens hanging out washing, mothers calling out to their young ’uns and gossiping at gates – all of them had a look of disdain as they passed along, pulling young ’uns away from them. Some said ‘Scum!’ in low voices, and others just looked away. A gang of lads went by riding in an old pram. Their squeals of delight mixed with fear as it gathered pace down the hill, to the sound of a woman cursing and swearing at them. Bridie and Issy laughed at this, but Bridget remained quiet. Her eyes never left the ground.

  ‘Are you for me, Issy? Will you be helping me?’

  ‘Aye, I will. I just want to do it in a way as won’t bring trouble down on my Tom.’

  ‘I have another idea, and one as won’t be after looking like me disappearance was anything to do with you. I’ve had it a while, but I wasn’t sure to put it to you or not. Sure, the last thing I want is to cause you problems, Issy.’

  ‘Tell me of it and let’s see, shall we?’

  ‘’Tis as I know this fella. He took his leave of the workhouse when his brother died. It seems in life his brother wouldn’t help him, but in death he was for being generous and left the fortune he’d made in America to him. After he’d had his freedom, he went over the water back to Ireland, but there’s only me knowing this. He always said he would, but then he had many plans that he was for doing with the money. That he actually went isn’t something others know. He . . . he – well, he was for taking advantage of me and had a notion I’d be for going with him, so didn’t he try to have me hand in marriage? I was sure tempted, though I wasn’t for liking him. He showed me the tickets he had for us both. ’Tis that he would have paid me fine, but when I said I’d not go without me Bridget, he wasn’t for having that. And I wasn’t for going without her.’

  ‘What are you thinking, Bridie? How can this man help us today?’

  ‘You could be telling them as he waylaid us. They’re after knowing the attraction he had for me. They punished him once. So if you were to describe him, tell them he snatched us and took us into a waiting cab, they’d be for believing you, Issy. They trust you. And they would never be after finding him, so it wouldn’t matter that we’re for incriminating him.’

  It seemed Bridie had thought this plan through, but Issy had so many questions. ‘But, Bridie, how would he know you had a day out today? I mean, he’d have to know that to plan his attack.’

  ‘Cos it was arranged before he left. Sure, they will know that and will think I was in on the planning, but they won’t care. Yes, I’m committed there, but at the end of it all, it’s not a prison. They’ll report me for non-payment of me fine
, and the law might think on doing something, but it isn’t likely. Not if they think we have gone to Ireland.’

  ‘Would they think that?’

  ‘Sure they will. That or America. ’Tis as he never gave over talking of it. “The day of me release will be the day I buy me ticket out of this country,” he was always telling them, and they would take him on, telling him it wasn’t that easy; how he had to have papers and it would take a time. They’re not for realizing money buys anything, and if you have it, you don’t have to take the legal route to anything you need.’

  ‘But won’t they check? See if he has papers now and where he was going to? Or they might send a search out straight away to stop you – I mean, him – I mean, both of you, from leaving the country.’

  ‘No, those who’ve gone before without release have just been left to their own luck. Their punishment is that the doors to every workhouse across the country are closed to them, which means very few are after leaving. Despite the hardship of the place, ’tis better than having to sleep rough and starving to your death. That is what folk in there are for saying, and I can relate to that. There is a sense of being secure in there.’

  Issy’s insides tore her in two. On the one hand, she wanted Bridie out of there; but on the other, she’d have to say goodbye to them both. Especially Bridget. How could she bear that? How? The child had filled a need in her – the void of a deep longing to have children of her own. It was a need that increased every time she helped to bring a babby into the world.

  Dr Payne had examined her and found no reason why she shouldn’t conceive. And he couldn’t put the blame on Tom, as he’d proved himself with his first wife. It just didn’t happen. And it wasn’t for want of trying: she and her Tom had a good time together. Their love was complete in every way, and a great source of comfort to her.

  But she had to give thought to another worry niggling away at her and disturbing her thoughts – one she couldn’t put on Bridie’s shoulders, and one that had her and Tom between them watching Bridget every hour of the day and night. The Dochertys. They had made threats. It seemed to have taken a while for it to dawn on them that Bridget was an O’Hara. This coming into her head now made her mind up.

  ‘I’ll do it, Bridie. Come on, lass, I’ve some money on me. You sit there whilst I go into that shop over there. I’ll buy you some decent clothes, then we’ll go to that cafe next to it and I’ll pay them to let you use the washroom and tidy yourself up. You’ll only attract a lot of attention like you are.’

  ‘’Tis as I will never be able to thank you, Issy. You will stay in me prayers till me death, so you will.’

  The train disappeared into the cloud of smoke swirling around Issy. She stood for a good five minutes after it had gone out of sight. An empty space opened up inside of her, threatening to fold her into it.

  Never to see either of them again, because to do so would put them in danger of discovery; and never again to care for Bridget – wipe her tears, kiss her hurts better, cuddle her and play with her, tuck her up in bed and read to her. All of it gone. She’d known it must happen one day, but that day had seemed so far away that she’d not even thought to prepare herself for it. And how was she to face Tom? He’d never think of her doing something like this. Losing Bridget would rip his heart out.

  She turned away. With her head down to hide her tears, Issy walked off the platform and made her way back to the workhouse. All the way there she prayed they would believe her story.

  Andrew sat back in the carriage as the waiter served him a glass of champagne. He sipped it, savouring the flavour as he watched the countryside flash by. The noise of the train disturbed him somewhat, but he let it sweep over his head. Two hours to Bridlington.

  His hand tapped his breast pocket. The crinkling sound of the letter reassured him. He’d had it so long without opening it – years, in fact. Coming as it did on the day Dvina died, it had been amongst some letters handed to him when he arrived home from the trial. He hadn’t even attended to any of them until after her funeral. One of them came from his other solicitor. Inside, he’d been shocked to see an envelope with his name and address written on it in an uneducated hand He’d known it could only have come from one source: Lilly. He’d felt nothing other than a fear, caused by his predicament with Richard, of her possibly wanting to blackmail him. He’d even had to stay his hand from putting the letter in the bin. With pain attacking him on all fronts, he hadn’t wanted any more. Instead, he’d dropped it into a drawer, and there it had lain for six years – years in which he’d suffered as he didn’t know it was possible to do. Dried-up is how he’d describe himself. Functioning, but not taking part. Gnarled by guilt, cut in half by sorrow. Until a few weeks ago, when he’d gone for a long ride and the dawning of spring around him had touched his senses. Nothing had done that for so long. Clumps of golden daffodils, blossom on the hedgerows, budding trees, and birds busy collecting foliage to line their nests – the new life around him had infused him with new spirit.

  On his return he’d had what the housewives would call a spring clean. He’d tidied his office – a domain none of the staff were allowed to enter, other than to flick a feather duster around and brush the carpet, under the scrutiny of Jameson.

  It was then that he’d come across the letter. The thought of it containing blackmail seemed a silly idea now, because surely he would have heard from her again. Something – a spark more defining than the life infused by the signs of spring – had run through his veins as he’d scanned the short note. He’d read it so often since then that he knew every word, and how they were all written, bad spelling included:

  Dear Andrew,

  Forgive me. I know I shuldn’t write, but I had an urge to say thanks. Wot you did for me, I never thout anybody wuld do. I am doing well. Me busness is floudoing good. I have me reglar customers and I earn me money from it.

  I miss you, Andrew, and think of you a lot. Hope you can visit sometime, love Lilly xxx

  He’d written to her to ask her if the invitation still stood. His solicitor had taken the letter to Lilly and had waited for her reply. And so, here he was, with an excitement in his belly of the kind he’d forgotten the feeling of.

  The thought of the possible blackmail that he’d tagged to Lilly’s letter when he’d first received it brought Richard Nelton to his mind. The man’s name conjured up disgust in him. The extortion had continued after the trial, as he’d supposed it would, despite Andrew being in mourning. Richard had even tried to force the settlement deal he’d proposed, and had managed to get a residence far superior to the one Andrew had in mind when the idea had first occurred to him. Now Richard and Anna held grand dinners and balls, living off his wife’s inheritance and the proceeds of selling their not immodest previous home. Richard’s career and social standing had risen in profile, leaving Andrew having to make polite overtures to them both, whilst seething under the surface. The worst was the knowing smile Richard always gave him whenever they met. Or maybe it was his conscience interpreting things that way. He didn’t know.

  Taking a good swallow of the champagne, he sighed. This train journey was turning from a pleasant experience of anticipation into a nightmare of memories that he could do without raking over, as one thing led to another and Bridie Hadler now floated into his thoughts. For the first time ever, he felt a pang of guilt over her. He tried to bury it under the ‘She killed my wife’ heading, but it wouldn’t go – not comfortably, as it always had before. Why now? Why had all these things come back to him, after lying dormant inside him for so long? All he wanted to do was to see Lilly and taste the pleasures of her once more, not relive moments from the worst phase of his life.

  Perhaps it was time he helped Bridie leave that place. Oh God, he didn’t want to feel like this! He didn’t want to face the truth. He wiped the sweat from his brow. He’d sort it. He’d set Bridie up somewhere, like he had Lilly. But with a difference: he’d never, ever visit Bridie. Never, ever have her within his sight. He could
n’t cope with that. He’d get all he needed from Lilly. If these few days he would spend with her went well, then he would make it a regular occurrence.

  The sight of Lilly standing on the platform warmed him through. His surprise at how normal she looked must have shown on his face – normal in the sense of her dress, for she could have been any young woman waiting for someone to arrive. The old ‘look’ had gone – he hoped not forever. Her beautiful hair, so like Bridie’s – God! stop thinking of that woman! – sat in a neat chignon on the back of her head. Her dress, of the kind ladies wore to travel, had a good cut to it. Grey in colour, its bustle was neat and not too big, and over it she wore a black velvet cloak fastened at the neck. Her smile pleased him. Gone were the yellowing teeth; she now sported clean, healthy-looking, gleaming white ones sitting evenly in pink gums.

  ‘Andrew! Eeh, don’t look at me like that, like you don’t approve. I dressed special for you.’

  The laugh left him before he could stop it. Her face fell, and he took hold of her and kissed her. ‘I’m not laughing at you. More at myself, for expecting you to stand on this none-too-warm station in your corset, which is how you were used to greeting me.’

  The soft giggle coming from her made him feel good. As did what she said next. ‘Oh, Andrew, I still have some. I have one on, and it is much prettier. You’ll get your treat later. In the meantime you must be hungry, love. I’ve booked us a table at one of the best places in town.’

  This sounded so unlike Lilly. He’d never thought in a million years to do such a thing with her, but when they reached the venue – a beautiful hotel overlooking the sea, of a class that told of the kind of visitors it was used to – her reception there put him at ease. Everyone greeted her, and all treated her as if she was a lady. Lilly knew them all by name and had a word for each, asking after family and health, and introducing Andrew.