by Mary Wood
For such a wee child, Bridget coped well with always meeting her mammy coming out of big buildings like this, and not knowing when she would see her again. Bridie supposed over the years she’d become used to it. She bent down and clung onto her. ‘It’s over now, me wee one. Mammy won’t be for leaving you again.’
‘Are you all better, Mammy?’
‘I am, love, I am. Where’s Aunty Beth?’
‘She’s not come. She had business. Mr Armitage brought me. He—’
‘Bruiser!’
‘Mammy . . . ?’
‘Oh, don’t be for taking any notice of your mammy. It was after being a surprise, that’s all.’
‘I bet it was. Well, well. Bridie O’Hara.’
‘Hadler now, Bruiser. And that’s not the only change I have in me.’
‘I can see that. You’re not half the beauty you were, but you’ll do. We’ll soon build you up. Come on. Cab won’t wait all day.’
‘Are you taking me to Beth’s?’
‘No, you’re coming back to my house. A new girl started with us yesterday and took the last room we had in that house.’
‘I’m not, Bruiser, I’m not for staying with you. Take me to Beth’s – she’ll be after sorting something for me.’
‘Look, Bridie, Beth won’t have yer. Not if you’re not working. Them rooms mean money to her, and she likes to keep her pot full, so forget it. I’ve got a nice place – a big place. There’s nowt goes on there, so the young ’un will be safe.’
‘This isn’t you thinking we can be together again?’
‘Ha! Look at you! You might have had me heart at one time, love, but I go for something a bit classier these days. For old times’ sake, well . . . I may have stepped over the line with you and owe you, but there’s rooms at me house, food, warmth and somewhere for young ’un to play. That’s all I’m offering. By, I’d not even put you out to earn money for me, the state you’re in.’
Bridie cringed. What a mess she must be, to have the likes of Bruiser say something like that. Bridget cuddled up closer to her as she asked, ‘Mammy, don’t you want to go to Mr Armitage’s house?’
The question gave her a pang of guilt. Did it matter what she wanted or didn’t want? She had to put her wee Bridget first, so she replied, ‘Yes, ’tis only me having a feeling we will be in the way.’
‘You’ll not. Me house is big enough for us not to meet, if we don’t want to – and I’m of the mind not to, so you’ve nothing to worry over. I live on the outskirts in one of them posh houses – the suburbs they call it – and this cab is mine an’ all. Ha, me and Beth have come a long way since your day, Bridie!’
‘You and Beth, is it?’
‘Business-only arrangement. But yes, we are partners, and it’s working out well for the both of us.’
So much had changed. Fancy Beth letting this be the way of things, after what she knew Bruiser did! And Bruiser seemed different, too. She couldn’t put her finger on how – kinder perhaps, with him thinking of Bridget, and sorry to the point of wanting to take her in. It didn’t add up, but what choice had she? She had nowhere else to go, and she knew no one else who would take her in.
The house surprised her. Bruiser had told the truth of it being in the suburbs of Sheffield, but she hadn’t expected it to be so grand. It stood on a hill, and when she stepped out of the cab she could see the town spread out below, with its smoking chimneys and dense array of buildings. Trees lined the street, and the houses stood back from the road. A three-storey building enclosed by a brick wall and a large, clanging gate, the house had a porch over the front door. The driveway, wide enough to accommodate the cab, had lawns on either side of it, and Bruiser told her there was a stable out the back for the horse.
The front door closed behind them, and they stood in a hallway with many doors leading off it and stairs to the right, with an ornate mahogany balustrade and a deep-red carpet. The house smelt of polish, giving her the idea that Bruiser must have staff working for him. She soon found she was right, as he explained, ‘Your rooms are at the top. I’ve made you a bedroom each, and a sitting room. There’s a bathroom up there – aye, and it has hot running water! I had it all put in last year. I have a lot of problems with the pipes still, but it works most of the time. There’s a cook and a woman who does the cleaning, but besides that I do everything for meself. I’ll show you round before I take you up.’
Each room had the style she remembered: elegant pieces of furniture at odds with each other, and at odds with his character. He pointed out his sitting room and his library, though she remembered he hadn’t been able to read. Maybe he’d learned?
‘Here is where I eat. It’s not the room those who had the house before me used, but I like it. It’s cosy. You can eat in here if you want, or you can have your meals upstairs. You’ll see as you have a table in the sitting-room part.’
The room they stood in was much more like the kind she was used to, with its less-grand fireside chairs, scrubbed table and open fire with a kettle on the grate plate.
‘That door there leads to the kitchen, so when Cook isn’t here I can nip in and fill me kettle and have a pot of tea. I sometimes hold a fork with a crust on it over the fire and make some toast. It’s grand. Reet, let’s take you up . . . Eeh, lass, are you all right?’
The dizzy feeling – her constant companion of late – made Bridie’s body sway. She put her hand out to steady herself and caught hold of Bruiser’s shirt. ‘’Tis as I am weak still. I’ll just be sitting a minute . . .’
‘Mammy?’
‘’Tis all right, wee one. Mammy is to take it easy for a while, that’s all.’
‘I should have thought on. Come on, I’ll help you to the chair and make one of them pots of tea I were just telling you of.’
His strong arm came round her. It wasn’t what she wanted to feel, but sure enough the strength of him protected her and trickled a warmth through her.
‘Eeh, Bridie, lass, you’re all skin and bone. Sit there and I’ll look after you.’
The kindness of this spilled a tear down her cheek. Had she misremembered him? Blotting out the qualities he had in him, and thinking only of his bad traits?
The hot, sweet tea tasted good, but she wasn’t for eating one of the buns he’d brought in. Her stomach couldn’t take it.
‘Cook makes these most days for me – she knows as I’m partial. Here, Bridget, you have one. It’s a few hours till dinner.’
‘Yes, me wee one, you be getting it down you,’ Bridie said, in answer to Bridget’s unspoken question.
‘If I know you, Bridie, you’ll be wanting a drop. Well, I’ve got you some. It’s in your room. Only don’t tell Beth; she’s put me under a sentence of death if I give you more than a small sup a day.’
‘Bruiser . . .’
‘Leave it, lass. I know we need to have words. Clear the air, like. I did bad stuff to you, but I were provoked. We’ll talk another day. We’ve plenty of time.’
‘But ’tis as I cannot stay here, not for good. I’ll be finding meself a job once I get me strength, and a room for me and Bridget, so I will. You need to be understanding as I’m not legally out, and if they have a mind, they may come looking. They’re bound to find as I was once living in Sheffield and come looking here . . .’
‘Well, I know different, lass. I went to pay your fine to the court in Leeds, but it had already been paid. There were papers there for you, releasing you of your pauper status. You have to pick them up if you want them, as they wouldn’t let me have them.’
‘What? Who . . .’
‘Well, it must have been someone with a fat purse, cos not many could afford fifty quid.’
Andrew Harvey! It must have been him. But why?
‘If I were you, I wouldn’t give it much thought. It’s done, and that’s that. Anyroad, are you up to seeing your rooms now?’
‘Yes, but is it there are two flights of stairs I have to go up?’
‘Aye, come on. You can rest on t
he landing if you need to; I’ve some chairs there. Just as ornaments, usually, but they’ll be of use to you.’
He took her arm and helped her up. Bridie couldn’t be sure if its effect on her came from his closeness or for the want of someone to show her some kindness, but whatever it was, it felt good.
Each room showed signs of the thought he’d put into them: nothing too posh, but everything to make her comfortable. He must have worked hard this last couple of weeks. The furniture looked new. He opened the wardrobe, and inside it hung various outfits. ‘You’ll find the chest over there has other items you need, and there’s stuff for Bridget in her room an’ all. Beth did the choosing of it all, and she chipped in to pay for them. She said not to get you too many, as she’s a mind you’ll fill out. Some of them might be on the big side as it is.’
How is it that the spirit can take cruelty better than kindness, she wondered, as this thought brought her to tears once more.
‘They’re what Aunt Issy calls joyful tears, Mr Armitage. Me mammy often sheds them.’
‘Well, that’s good then, Bridget. Now, you go along to your room and see what Aunt Beth has done for you. She listened, thou knows, when you told her about all the stuff you had – the toys and cuddly rag dolls. She said she hopes this makes up some for having to leave them behind.’
Bridie let Bruiser help her to the bed. He unlaced her boots and took them off, then eased her cloak from her. ‘Here, I’ll do that,’ he said as she’d stayed his hand at her bodice. ‘There’s nowt I haven’t seen before.’ With everything but her shift removed, he lifted her legs onto the bed and pulled the cover over her. ‘You get some rest, Bridie. I’ve to go out, but I won’t be long. Bridget has plenty to occupy her. Oh, I hid the doings at the bottom of the chest. Shall I get you some?’
‘Yes, please. ’Tis as it will help to rest the bones of me. And, Bruiser – thanks. I’m not deserving of all this.’
‘Well, if I’d known of your plight before, I’d have done sommat, but as it was, Beth weren’t for telling me as she even knew where you were. I’m mad at her for that. She only mentioned you after you turned up, cos she had no choice then.’
‘Don’t be mad. She was only for being loyal to me.’
‘Well, that’s sommat, you forgiving her. Cos she kept you in that place longer than she needed to. She could have coughed up the fine herself – well, at least asked for a loan or sommat. It beggars belief she didn’t.’
When he’d gone, Bridie thought about this. Why – why hadn’t Beth been for doing something for me? Her saying she hadn’t got many of me letters didn’t seem excuse enough, and why wasn’t she been for visiting me, even?
She didn’t like these thoughts and decided to leave them be. Instead, she took a large gulp of the good gin that Bruiser had left by her bed and tried to take in her new circumstances, for as sure as it was that the little Jesus lived in Heaven, she’d fallen on her feet. But then, why was it she was for thinking that, when all she’d done was come back near to the beginning again?
EPILOGUE
Life Does as Life Did
1899–1900
32
Early May 1899
Issy’s news
Issy lifted her head. Her body shuddered. She hadn’t been able to stop the vomit from billowing from her. The air she’d come out for hadn’t helped, and the dizzy feeling persisted. But none of it – not even the vile taste in her mouth – could stop her smiling. At last! At last I have Tom’s babby inside of me.
Going inside, she picked up the bucket and went back into the front garden to swill away her mess. The time for her bleeding had passed three weeks ago or more, and then, what with the morning sickness and the swelling of her breasts – well, all the signs were there. She just needed a couple of months to go by before the doctor could confirm it, and then she would tell Tom. She couldn’t wait. In the meantime, she had to hold down the nausea until after he’d gone to work each day – not an easy thing to do.
Gertie turned into the lane, her little lad clinging onto her hand. No doubt she’d be looking for a brew and a good gossip, but there didn’t seem anything to talk about at the moment. Not anything to do with her own news, that was certain, but she could give her a few snippets from the big house that Tom had told her of. Funny how most of their entertainment these days centred on what happened up there. Even the Irish didn’t give them much to gossip over any more – they had all settled down after the hanging of Seamus Finney and Paddy Docherty, especially after Mr Harvey got rid of the rest of the Docherty clan. She was glad about this, as the Irish were lovely folk and had at last found their place in the community.
The news from Tom, though, centred on Master Jeremy being in conflict with his da about his future: Jeremy wanted to go into the Army, and his da wanted him to go to Oxford.
Jeremy had turned into a fine young man. At eighteen he stood as tall as his father and almost as tall as Tom. And handsome! Eeh, she’d never seen one better. He took after his father in his looks, though she thought Jeremy had the edge. But his nature was all Miss Dvina’s – she shone through him. Jeremy loved to spend time in the stables, helping Tom do his chores and asking him for advice about his future. Tom had tried to make him see his da’s point of view, telling him to listen to his father and try and come up with a compromise.
Mr Harvey wanted to hand over to his son, as his heart condition made running the mine very difficult for him. He tired easily. Though, she thought, Mr Harvey always seemed to have the energy to go to his fancy woman, for over the years she’d become certain that this was the reason for his regular trips away every month.
Tom loved Master Jeremy, and had done since the boy had been no higher than his knee. It broke his heart to hear the lad still ask if Tom remembered when his mama had done this or that. ‘She should be here, Issy,’ Tom would say to her. ‘It ain’t fair; she worked hard to bring at least one of her children into the world, and for her not to see him grow up . . .’
Thinking of this put a fear into her. She’d seen so many lost in childbirth or taken with some disease or other – what if it happened to her? She could think of nothing as sad as that, and sent up a prayer for her babby’s safe delivery.
‘Look, Jeremy, I understand the need in you for a military life. After all, you will be taking after your great-grandfather and his father before him, not to mention your namesake – my dear stepbrother. But what about the mine? I really thought you would want to get into the workings of it. You will have to at some stage, and in the not too distant future.’
‘I know, which is why I thought I could join up now, do at least ten years in the Army, then come home and learn the ropes from you.’
‘But don’t you need a degree to be an officer?’
‘I wouldn’t think so. I’d be sure to get a commission, especially with Great-grandfather being a general in his day. But all right, Father. I’ll do it your way, but only a two-year course and something to do with engineering or maths. Something useful. I couldn’t stand taking law, or reading any subject just to say I’ve been to the top university.’
Andrew was flooded with relief. ‘Well done, my boy. Very sensible. Of course, you may be like me and do your engineering, then go on to do something else.’
‘I won’t, Father. I want a military career. It is in my blood. I was never happier at school than when I joined the boys’ army.’
‘Well, look, I don’t want to make you unhappy. Let’s compromise: you apply for a commission and, if you get it, all well and good. If not, you go down the route I want you to take. I can’t say fairer than that, can I?’
‘Oh, Father, thank you. Thank you so much. Whatever made you change your mind so suddenly?’
Andrew took the hand his son offered, but a sudden rush of emotion had him reach out and pull the boy to him. The hug was reciprocated, but after a moment they drew apart. ‘I don’t know, I must have had a weak moment.’ To cover up the awkwardness of it all, he sought to change the sub
ject. ‘Anyway, son, are you taking up the invitation to go and stay in York and attend the ball Lord and Lady Meriden are giving for their daughter, Laura?’
‘I suppose I must, but I’m not keen on all of this social stuff. These balls seem more like cattle markets to me, with all the mothers trying to bag the best catch for their daughters. But this one should be fun. Gregory Thomas is going.’
‘I used to feel like that, but you know I came round to thinking it isn’t a bad system. It helps us to meet our own kind. I have an invitation, but you won’t want me tagging along, so I think I will go to Bridlington for the weekend. Anyway, if Laura has turned out as pretty as her sister Daphne, you will have a treat and will bray with the rest of them, my boy.’
‘Good Lord, Father, I’ll do no such thing! I’m too young anyway, and not yet earning a living.’
‘Don’t think that will matter – your prospects are the best in this county, and all the surrounding counties, you can bet. This is a forerunner to next year. I hear Laura will have a Season in London, hosted by her aunt, and is looking at all the young men in this area whom she might think to invite. Why do you think you’ve been asked? Anyway, you can stay with your Aunt Agatha, if you have a mind to attend any of the events in London next year. I will write to her to pave the way for you for next Easter.’
‘No, Father, please don’t waste your time doing any such thing. I won’t be attending any of these stupid coming-out parties; they are just not my thing. Besides, I’m not for sale, so they can go and fish elsewhere. I don’t want to marry for at least another ten years.’
Just like himself, Andrew thought. Even then I hadn’t been ready, but when I think of the wasted years . . . ‘Well, we’ll see. Whatever you decide, your mother would be so proud of you – as I am, Jeremy. Good luck with the Army thing, old boy. I was wrong to protest. You shouldn’t put off anything that you want to do. I wasted a lot of years before I married your mother, and she lived only a few miles from me. I just didn’t see what a gem she was. Don’t put too much score on compartmentalizing your life. Just let things happen.’