Clem entered then, eyes still bleary from sleep, shoving his crumpled shirt into hastily donned trousers. ‘What the hell is going on?’
Mr Rushton answered, ‘I came to investigate the din. Folk were worried.’
Clem’s annoyed face relaxed and he looked at Edwin. ‘I don’t blame ’em. It was bloomin’ ghoulish.’
‘Sorry.’ Edwin looked apologetic.
‘You can’t help it.’ Seemingly unperturbed, Clem went outside to the lavatory.
With such an attitude, Mr Rushton had no alternative but to exit, though there was a murmured parting shot for Eliza. ‘Don’t think you’ve fooled me. I know what’s going on.’
She blustered, ‘But you’ve seen for yoursel—’
‘I have seen, yes, and I know frightened children when I see them. Take this as a warning: if it doesn’t stop you’ll have someone bigger to contend with.’ The policeman left.
No longer under surveillance, Eliza dropped her caring façade and threw the lint at Edwin. ‘Look what trouble you’ve caused, you sissy! Do it your bloody self in future.’
Feeling sorry for the one in pain, Beata waited for her stepmother to leave the room, then took up the lint and bandages and quietly applied them herself.
Mr Rushton’s wife was highly displeased to learn that her husband’s visit had been futile, complaining later to Fanny Gentle, Well, it hasn’t put me off! I’ll still be watching her. Terrified they were, those bairns, terrified! Wouldn’t you think Clem would do something?’
‘Aye, you would, wouldn’t you?’ Fanny nodded mistrustfully. ‘I reckon there’s more to this than meets the eye. Haven’t you noticed the way he and madam behave towards each other?’
Mrs Rushton was immediately alert. ‘No! You mean … ?’ She gasped in disgust. ‘But he’s such a nice lad, is Clem.’
‘Oh, I don’t blame him! There isn’t a man alive who’d turn it down if it’s served to him on a plate. But if we couldn’t prove she’s hitting the bairns we’d have the devil’s job of trying to prove that, won’t we?’
* * *
And so with such a lack of evidence, the children’s life of misery was to endure, one ghastly month into the next. Armed with Ethel’s address, Mrs Rushton promised to notify her should anything be proven, but thus far Eliza remained too clever.
Christmas came but brought no relief, only the memory of better times. Whilst there had never been presents, Christmas had always been an occasion for joy in the Kilmaster household, with plenty of food on the table, a few nuts, an orange and a penny, and fond indulgence by their parents. Eliza’s only indulgence was to abstain from her harsh treatment for a couple of hours. Yet, the fear could not be so easily expunged, and the children were to remain tense throughout the Christmas meal.
But there was to be a surprise in the afternoon. Eliza’s sister came to visit, armed with parcels for everyone – even Beata and her siblings.
‘I’ve come into a bit of money!’ she beamed, handing the parcels to Eliza, who received them with extraordinary merriment and distributed them amongst the family.
Conditioned to receive nothing but unkindness, Beata could hardly believe that such an event was happening. Holding her own little parcel, wanting to prolong the enjoyment of it, she watched as first Edwin opened his to reveal some Meccano, then to further sounds of delight George revealed a mechanical car, which was wound up and set off along the lino, then Doris opened hers – a silver purse with half a crown in it.
Visualizing such a prize for herself, still wanting to savour the moment, Beata pressed and felt the outline of the gift within her own package – yes, it was a silver purse! And there was a hard round object that could only be half a crown! Able to resist no longer she excitedly ripped it open … and out fell a packet of liquorice.
Eliza burst out laughing – laughed and laughed with her hand pressed to her side, the sight of Beata’s crestfallen face seeming to goad her on to even greater mirth so that in the end tears were streaming down her cheeks and she had to run from the room for fear of wetting herself.
But though she was gone, the sound of her spiteful laughter was to reverberate in Beata’s mind. It would stay with her for the rest of her life.
22
The misery dragged on into another year, alleviated only by the appearance of Augusta, who visited as often as she could, bringing gifts for Eliza in the hope that it would make her kinder to the children.
Delighted at Augusta’s arrival on this Easter Monday, especially as she brought chocolate eggs with her, Mims jumped up and down in glee. ‘Our Gussie’s come to see us again!’
Eliza smirked. ‘Don’t flatter yourself. It isn’t you she keeps coming to see. Nor me neither.’ Having invoked a flush of embarrassment on Augusta’s face, her amusement became even more pronounced. ‘You think I don’t know about Vincent O’Reilly? I’ve known for ages. You can’t keep anything secret round here.’
Seeing Augusta so mortified, Beata was anxious that she should not think any of them had betrayed her.
But Eliza was indifferent. ‘Don’t look so scared! I’m not bothered who you see so long as you don’t bring a bairn back here and expect me to look after it.’
Augusta was even more horrified. ‘I wouldn’t do that!’
Eliza laughed and went in to make a pot of tea.
Looking subdued, Augusta followed her, handing over a bag of Walnut Whips. ‘I thought I’d take the children up the Crags to roll their eggs.’
‘Be my guest.’ Eliza dipped into the bag with a sound of approval.
‘We’ve got painted ones an’ all!’ Not allowed in, Mims shouted to her sister from the door and indicated the box of hard-boiled eggs on the dresser.
‘Aye, they’ll serve as your tea,’ said Eliza, munching. ‘Keep the blessed nuisances out for as long as you like – and gather some sticks for the fire.’
‘Sorry you aren’t able to come, Edwin,’ Augusta apologized to her stepbrother, whose infirmity prevented him from walking, but he did not seem too bothered as he tucked into his own Easter egg.
Madeleine had received the day off, so had Joe, though he had gone fishing. Setting off for the Crags, the brothers and sisters spent a jolly half-hour rolling their eggs, the young ones scampering and screaming after them down the rocky incline. But Madeleine could not help noticing that Augusta was unusually pensive today. Normally there would be an air of eager anticipation as she waited for Vincent to arrive, but today her eyes were clouded as they watched for him.
Seeing a figure appear, Augusta tensed. But it was only the hunched form of Dr Hannah who, accompanied by his sister and her children, watched the egg-rolling from a short distance away, responding to the Kilmaster children’s cheery waves.
At the sight of the doctor, Augusta became deep in thought and drifted away into a private world until the person seated beside her on the grass delivered a nudge.
‘What’s up?’ asked Maddie.
Augusta looked startled, before donning a tight smile. ‘Oh … nothing.’
‘I can tell you’re lying.’ Maddie smoothed the wrinkles out of her black stockings and adjusted the garters on her thick legs.
‘That’s not a very nice thing to say about anybody.’
The reply was airy. ‘I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what it is.’
‘You can’t help anyway,’ retorted Augusta. ‘It’s a medical problem.’
‘Well, there’s a doctor right over there, you clot! I’ll shout him.’
Augusta turned to gag her sister. ‘No need! I already know the answer.’
‘What’s wrong with you then?’
A blushing Augusta looked away. ‘It’s too personal.’
‘Oh, something to do with bums, is it?’
Though close to tears, Augusta laughed and shook her head.
‘Aw, tell me!’
Turning to look at her sister, Augusta decided she was old enough to hear. ‘It’s me friend. You know, the one that’s supposed t
o come every month?’
‘Ah!’ Maddie nodded.
‘It doesn’t come often enough. I went to see the doctor at work and he said it’s tuberculosis.’
The image of their dying mother still vivid, Madeleine was instantly aghast at the thought of losing the most beloved of her sisters. ‘But you don’t have a cough!’
‘I know, but the doctor says that’s what it is and he should know.’ Augusta looked distraught, but then through her own discomfort she sensed Maddie’s anxiety and immediately consoled her. ‘He didn’t mean I’m going to die, but that I’m carrying it. He says it runs in families and I’ll pass it on to any children I have.’
Eyes moist, Maddie looked relieved. ‘Are you going to tell Vincent?’
‘How can I? He’s so nice he’d probably say we won’t bother with a family, that it doesn’t matter, but I couldn’t inflict that on him, on anybody for that matter. He deserves to have children.’ Augusta felt as if she had been disembowelled.
Madeleine hugged her knees. ‘So what are you going to say?’
Augusta shook her head in pensive despair, then caught a movement. ‘Oh Lord, he’s here.’
Watching her two sisters deep in conversation, Beata wondered what was being said, for Gussie seemed preoccupied and not her usual self at all. Even now that Vincent appeared on the scene and the children ran to meet him, Gussie seemed reluctant to participate and hardly shared two words with him when he sat down beside her.
After several more rollings the eggs were peeled and eaten, the chocolate ones too. Mims came to sit on Augusta’s lap, head on her sister’s breast, soaking up the affection denied by her stepmother.
Then, shortly, as was his wont, Vincent took Augusta’s hand and led her away.
As usual, the younger ones waited a while, then began to creep after the couple to spy on them.
‘I don’t think you should today,’ warned Madeleine. But when they ignored her she hurriedly pursued them with a grimace.
This time, there was to be more than cuddles and kisses. Vincent brought something out of his pocket, telling Augusta, ‘I carved it meself.’
Straining to see what it was, the children were puzzled as to what use could be had from a spoon made of coal, but continued to watch as, with a finger, Vincent traced out the markings. ‘That’s our initials, and this … is the date we’ll be married.’
Hearing the combined gasp of glee Augusta spun round and charged at the children, lashing out at them. ‘What are you doing here? Get back over there!’
Spurred by her fury, they scattered across the crags, leaving a tormented Augusta to wander back to her sweetheart.
She bit her lip. ‘I have to refuse, Vince.’ It was the most painful thing to say, taking her to the brink of tears.
The young man reacted as if pole-axed, the smile wiped from his face. ‘But why?’
Bereft of an answer, she responded angrily. ‘I just have to!’
‘What’s up with you? Why are you being like this? I thought we—’
‘There’s nothing wrong. I’m just not cut out for marriage!’
Confused and betrayed, he too portrayed anger. ‘And what am I supposed to do now? You’ve been stringing me along for years—’
‘No, I haven’t! I didn’t mean to anyway.’
‘Then why?’
‘I’m sorry, I just can’t!’ Tearfully, she fled.
Instead of following her, Vincent gave a harsh snort of frustration and, glowering, he turned on his heel and marched off in the opposite direction.
Unable to prevent herself from crying, Augusta told her worried siblings to leave her alone, speaking through her handkerchief.
‘I tried to stop them,’ said Madeleine.
Duke looked up at the speaker. ‘What’s wrong with her?’
‘I can’t tell you, it’s private.’
Beata felt hurt that her sisters could not share the secret with her. ‘We’re sorry, Gussie, we didn’t mean—’
‘I’m all right! It’s nothing to do with you.’
‘If that Vincent hurt you—’ began Duke threateningly.
‘He didn’t! Just shut up, all of you.’ Augusta stumbled away to find a private hollow where she could break down and sob without being disturbed.
But they could still hear her.
* * *
‘Gussie’s been roaring,’ announced George to his mother the moment they were through the door.
‘Oh aye, what for?’ Halfway through a book, munching on her third Walnut Whip, Eliza showed scant interest.
Augusta had no wish to tell her stepmother. Eliza had odd views about people with illness and might prevent her from coming here again. ‘Nothing.’
‘It were that Vincent O’Reilly’s fault,’ muttered Duke.
Eliza was instantly accusing. ‘Eh, you’re not expecting, are you?’
‘No!’ Augusta wished her stepmother would show more understanding.
‘Are you sure?’
With Eliza so unconvinced, Augusta had no option but to tell her. ‘I’m … The doctor says I’ve got TB. There, now you all know!’ The heated addendum was directed at her siblings, her eyes bright with moisture.
The frown of suspicion dispersed, replaced by a knowing nod. ‘Well, I’m not surprised. It’s because you’re puny like your mother – they say a family never gets rid of it. I suppose Mr Whatsispants took umbrage and chucked you, did he?’
Augusta felt sickened that Vincent could be viewed in such a callous light. ‘I couldn’t tell him! I don’t want to pass it on to any children we might have. I just said, I can’t marry him.’ Her face finally crumpled.
‘Looks like we’d better get you measured for your nun’s habit then.’ Eliza uttered light laughter. ‘Well, you’ve had enough practice, I’ve never known anyone have to darn the knees of their stockings as often as you do.’
Listening to the interchange, Beata felt how thoughtless her stepmother was, offering no help, only derogatory quips. She herself pondered over the matter, trying to find a solution to Augusta’s predicament. She had seen how angry Vincent had been; it was not fair that he should lay the blame on Gussie when all she had been trying to do was spare him.
Deciding to act upon her feelings, she was given the opportunity when her stepmother sent them all outside until bedtime. With Augusta in the closet, Beata dashed off to Vincent’s house.
Mrs O’Reilly answered the door, inviting Beata in. Vincent was seated in an armchair opposite his father on the other side of the hearth, his bleak expression turning dark upon seeing the visitor’s identity.
‘What’s your sister been doing to the lad?’ His father teased the little girl. ‘He’s had a face like cow’s bum since he came in.’
Beata didn’t laugh, finding it awkward to speak in front of an audience. But when Vincent made as if to bolt she said quickly, ‘Gussie’s got tuberculosis!’ Having commanded an audience, she explained, ‘The doctor told her – that’s why she said can’t marry you, Vince, because she doesn’t want to pass it on to your children – but she really wants to.’
His paramour’s behaviour explained, the anger quickly began to smooth from Vincent’s face. ‘She could have told me. I wouldn’t have been so hard on her.’
‘That’s what I thought!’ Beata looked keen. ‘She’ll kill me for telling you but I thought you should know.’
Vincent nodded. ‘Aye … thanks, Beat.’
She waited for him to say more, studying his face which still wore a look of sadness.
‘Gussie’ll be off back to York shortly,’ she said when he remained silent. ‘If you come now you might catch her.’
‘No! No, just … say Vincent’s sorry, and thank her for trying to spare my feelings.’
‘And that you still want to marry her?’ Beata saw the look that passed between parents and son.
Looking at the floor, Vincent shook his curly head.
His mother showed a crestfallen Beata out, saying kindly, ‘He can�
�t risk it, love. Sorry.’ With the door closed upon her, Beata’s pace lacked enthusiasm on the homewards journey. Dutifully, she relayed Vincent’s message to Augusta, watched as fresh tears slid down her sister’s cheeks, overcome with guilt that her good intentions had only made things worse.
* * *
It was this same feeling of guilt to which she attributed her dullness of spirit that was to continue throughout the Easter break. Even upon returning to school it had not lifted. Indeed, the mood seemed to have transformed itself into a genuine physical illness, manifested in an inability to swallow her meals. The breakfast porridge had been hard enough to get down, but when Beata came home at lunchtime to find jam roly-poly, which she hated, it proved too much.
At the child’s distress, Eliza was unusually considerate. ‘Aye, you do look as if you’re sickening for something.’ Frowning, she pressed a hand to Beata’s glistening brow. ‘Though you’re not unduly hot.’
‘Me head’s throbbing and I’m all achy,’ whimpered Beata.
Eliza was still performing her examination. ‘Your jaw seems swollen an’ all. All right, you don’t have to eat that if you don’t want to.’ She took the pudding away and gave it to Edwin. ‘Better get yourself down to the doctor’s this afternoon.’
Beata turned to leave the table – and at once everything went black. Through intermittent bouts of consciousness she had the impression of being installed in a motor vehicle, its bumpy passage causing intense pain in her head, before the blackness descended again.
When she awoke, for a few seconds she thought herself amongst the clouds. Everywhere was white and silent and there was the disembodied face of an angel smiling down at her.
‘It’s all right, my dear,’ a soothing voice told her. ‘You’re going to get well, you’re safe in hospital.’
Hospital not heaven. Growing more lucid, Beata realized that she was enveloped in a big white tent, the clouds provided by horrible-smelling steam that was coming in through a corner. The angel had a familiar face. It was the one who had nursed her through scarlet fever all those years ago. Many of the staff, though kind, had been brisk, offering only medical succour. Nurse Kelly was tenderness personified, seemingly unhurried and delivering the kind of support that a child such as Beata needed.
A Different Kind of Love Page 47