‘Just a short while, then we’ll have you out of this,’ added Nurse Kelly in her gentle brogue. ‘You’re over the worst.’
Beata’s throat was still sore. She tried to speak but could not.
‘You’ve got diphtheria,’ explained her carer, brushing a strand of auburn hair from the glistening brow in sympathetic manner. ‘I’m afraid you’ll be away from your family for quite a little while – but we’ll look after you.’
Beata did not care how long she was here. Whilst to others the enforced parting might be traumatic, to one from such an abusive household, being ministered by these tender hands was better than a holiday.
* * *
After nine weeks and the required amount of negative swabs, Beata returned home.
But it was not the home she had left. Whilst she had been in hospital, the family had moved to a brand-new house on the other side of the Crags at Conisbrough. Though modern, the dwelling had only one entrance, just inside the door was the bathroom and lavatory, then a long lounge with the kitchen on the left and the stairs on the right.
Duke, who had been giving Beata a guided tour, flicked a switch. ‘Look, we’ve got electric light an’all!’
Beata was still undergoing amazement at having a bathroom.
‘Well, we were getting too overcrowded at the old place,’ explained Eliza. ‘This is much more suitable. We’ve got an extra bedroom as well.’ She noticed then that Beata was frowning at her. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing!’ Beata looked away quickly.
Eliza thought she knew. ‘It might stink a bit today but that’s only because the wind’s in the wrong direction.’
There was indeed a dreadful smell of naphtha coming from Stanley’s factory, but that was not what had caused Beata’s puzzlement. She had been astounded by how portly Eliza had become in her absence. Her belly protruded like an upturned bowl under the white apron. But who would dare say this?
Beata’s attention turned to Edwin, who was up and walking again, though with a pronounced limp.
In fact everyone in the household had changed in her two-month absence, all looking much older and taller. George and Joe seemed like men.
One thing had not changed. Mims still sported the marks of her stepmother’s unpredictable moods.
Later, changing into her nightgown for bed, Beata pointed out a bruise on Mims’ arm. ‘What did you get that one for?’
‘Swapped me shoes for a lad’s clogs.’ Little Mims desperately wanted to make sparks with her own footwear as the boys did, but the only sparks that had flown were from Eliza.
‘Right, lights out!’ Clem hollered up the stairs.
‘She’s got fat, hasn’t she?’ Adjusting her eyes to the dinge, Beata clambered into bed after Mims, Doris sleeping on her own now in this more spacious house, though still in the same room.
The others agreed. ‘It’s all that chocolate your Gussie brings her,’ said Doris.
Snuggling down, Beata then asked them to relate all the family news that had gone on in her absence.
Mims told as much as she could remember. ‘We haven’t seen anything of Maddie for ages.’
‘I wonder why,’ said Beata.
Downstairs, Eliza was wondering the same thing, though it was not Madeleine’s welfare that concerned her but the non-appearance of her stepdaughter’s monetary contributions. This was the second month that a postal order had failed to arrive.
‘If there’s nothing in the morning post you’d better go over and check what’s going on,’ Eliza told Clem.
* * *
With morning bringing no news, after breakfast that Saturday morning Clem cycled over to Wath upon Dearne to visit his sister at her place of work.
But the door was answered by another maid who told him that Madeleine no longer worked here. Receiving no satisfactory answer as to where she had gone, even after questioning her employer, Clem went home to relay this bad news to Eliza.
Of course she immediately flew off the handle, damning Madeleine with all the foul words in her repertoire – though others were to deem their sister extremely lucky for they were the ones who bore the brunt of this, unable to put a foot right during the rest of the day.
Clem begged her to calm down as she railed at them for one paltry offence after another, lashing out at random. ‘This isn’t going to do you any good in your condition!’
Though focusing all her energy on avoiding Eliza’s wrath, inserting a duster into each and every crevice of the fretwork on the piano, Beata pricked up her ears at this remark. To what condition was Clem referring? Perhaps, glory be to God, Eliza had been afflicted by a heart complaint – Father had suffered from such a ‘condition’. It was wicked to wish anyone dead but…
‘No, you’re right.’ Eliza fought to compose herself and, taking a deep breath, lowered herself into a chair, hand upon her abdomen. ‘Eh dear, just when I thought we were getting on our feet, the little cat leaves us in the lurch.’
‘We’ll be all right,’ Clem comforted her. ‘I’ll put in some overtime.’
‘I wonder where she’s gone?’ She turned to fix her black glare on the children. ‘Do any of you know?’
There was rapid denial, everyone busy about their chores.
‘Better not,’ snapped Eliza.
* * *
A few days later, Beata was on her way to school when a boy approached her, acting as if he were a member of the secret service, his collar turned up, muttering from the side of his mouth as he pressed a letter into her hand, ‘Mrs Rushton told me to give you this!’ before hurrying away.
Beata made sure she was unobserved before taking the letter from its envelope, a slow smile spreading over her face as she read it. ‘I couldn’t send this home as Eliza would know where I am,’ wrote Maddie. ‘But am writing to let you know so you don’t worry. I haven’t put my address on as she might grab it off you. Destroy it after you read it. I got sick of being in service and am now training to be a nurse. Have saved up quite a bit of my own and also kept the money I was supposed to send home last month, though I don’t know how long it will last. See you some time. Love Madeleine.’
Ripping the letter up and casting the pieces to the wind, Beata proceeded to school, mentally wishing her sister good luck. How long would it be before she herself would be free?
* * *
Alas, instead of freedom, there were to be more degrading chores, as over the coming months Eliza’s ballooning abdomen prevented her from even the most personal of tasks.
‘Beat, you’ll have to do this for me!’ Still damp from her bath, she called up the stairs and, when Beata came down, held out a pair of scissors and indicated her foot. ‘I can’t bend over.’
Dutiful as usual, Beata hoisted her nightgown, kneeled before Eliza’s chair and proceeded to cut her toenails, collecting a little pile as she went. Acting from character, she had taken on the mantle of looking after her ailing stepmother – if Eliza was going to die it seemed only the decent thing to do – yet it did not go unnoticed that she never received one word of thanks for putting cool bandages on the swollen ankles, providing medication for the indigestion, nor for the disgusting task she was undergoing now.
Suddenly, as she was halfway through the other foot the lights went out, causing her to cut too deeply.
Eliza yelled and lashed out. ‘I’ll bet them little buggers are reading in bed!’ If more than three lights were on at once the fuse would blow. ‘I’ll kill them!’
Luckily at that point Clem came back from the off-licence with a bottle of beer and, having performed this repair many times before, had the illumination rectified in no time.
This did not satisfy Eliza, who barrelled her way upstairs and dealt out a trouncing on the culprits, who were too slow in flicking the light switch, using their library books as a weapon against them.
‘Big fat belly,’ accused a sobbing Mims as Beata slipped into bed beside her and tried to comfort her. ‘I’ve asked Our Lord to make her burst an
d all her guts fall out.’
* * *
Putting their stepmother’s burgeoning weight down to greed, the children’s imagination ran amok when, the next morning, they were roused by Joe, who told them Eliza had disappeared.
‘I went down for me breakfast and there’s no one in the kitchen. Can you lasses come and help?’
They tumbled out of bed and downstairs to investigate.
‘Where’s she gone?’ wondered Beata.
The realization began to dawn on Joe and he glanced at Edwin, who, judging from his expression was hazarding the same guess, but neither wanted to voice it.
‘Mebbe she has exploded like you asked for,’ laughed Duke to Mims, pretending to look for fragments of flesh upon the wallpaper. With no Clem around either, Eliza’s victims could jest to their heart’s content.
After the jokes were exhausted, Beata and Doris made everyone breakfast. Edwin did not sit down to eat with the rest. He had not shared the frivolity and seemed preoccupied.
‘Wrap mine up, I’ll take it with me. I want to get off before Clem comes back.’
‘Off where?’ Joe looked surprised. Edwin had not worked since his accident.
‘Nottingham. There’s more chance of a job there for the likes of me.’
The others were astounded. ‘Will you be going on the train?’ asked George. Edwin fished in his pocket and studied the three coins on his palm. ‘Not if it costs more than tuppence ha’penny, no.’
‘Then—’
‘I’ll have to walk, won’t I?’ He limped towards the door.
Those left behind were alarmed. ‘What do we tell Mother?’
‘She won’t miss me; I don’t bring any money in. Besides, she’ll have more on her mind.’ Without a goodbye, Edwin departed.
‘What did he mean?’ Beata asked Joe, who blushed.
George too hung his head and muttered, ‘Dunno.’
Breakfast over, Beata packed the young colliers up for work and was getting the others ready for school when the door opened, making them start.
Clem was alone. He looked very tired and his siblings beheld him warily, anticipating trouble. But their brother seemed happy that they had acted on their own initiative. ‘I’ll look forward to seeing this every morning whilst your mother’s away.’
Even when Beata dared to tell him that Edwin had left home Clem did not show annoyance, but merely shrugged and said, ‘Good luck to him.’
He was in a similarly good mood that evening, and continued to be so throughout their stepmother’s absence. He did not say where Eliza had gone, nor did they ask. With Clem being so nice they had no wish to mention her name and break the spell.
* * *
With her oppressor having been gone seemingly for ages and the house a more pleasant place to come home to, Mims had gradually lost her customary wariness upon entering and today, being first home from school, she burst in singing her heart out.
Hence, the gasp of utter shock and disbelief at the sight of Eliza seated by the fire, and for a few seconds she was rooted to the spot by terror.
But her stepmother delivered only a wry smile and an invitation. ‘Go and see what I’ve brought you.’ And she jabbed a thumb at the top drawer of the sideboard, which was open.
With tremulous movements, expecting a blow as she tiptoed past, Mims hoisted herself onto the balls of her feet and peeped over the edge of the drawer, what she saw causing her to suck in her breath in surprise. There was a baby looking back at her with grave, navy-blue eyes.
Despite her fear of the woman, Mims could not prevent casting a wide involuntary smile at Eliza, who grinned back in her lopsided manner. ‘That’s your brother Lionel. Do you want to hold him?’
Mims nodded eagerly.
Eliza pushed herself from the chair and went to lift Lionel from the drawer. ‘Sit on the sofa and I’ll hand him to you.’ She transferred him to Mims’ waiting arms. ‘Careful! You have to support his head otherwise you’ll break his neck.’ But apart from this harsh interjection there was no further rebuke, Eliza content to let Mims hold him, even bestowing a smile as the little girl marvelled over his tiny fingers. Falling head over heels in love with her baby brother, Mims did not ever want to relinquish him, but at that point Beata and Doris came in, both bouncing onto the sofa beside her to lay their own claim, and she was forced to give him up to their cooing attentions, all equally besotted. Even the boys, after first washing off their coal dust, came immediately to admire him – like Mims, exclaiming over his tiny digits, their own rough fingers tenderly stroking his fuzzy head. Everyone adored him.
Finally it was Clem’s turn.
‘Come and look at our baby brother!’ Mims summoned him excitedly to the sideboard.
Clem shared a secret smile with Eliza, that was noticed by the elder more knowledgeable siblings, who hung their heads in embarrassment.
Clem scooped the new arrival from the drawer and cradled him in his arms. ‘Aye, we’ve met before. He’s a cracker, isn’t he?’
‘When did you see him?’ frowned Mims, stung that she was not after all the first to learn about Lionel.
‘Oh, the other night,’ replied Clem, proceeding to rock his son gently, smiling down at him with a paternal gleam in his eye.
‘Can I hold him again?’ begged Mims but was out-shouted by other eager voices.
Such was to be the case on every day that followed, the younger children rushing home from school, vying to be first to hold the baby, Beata’s short legs invariably letting her down though she strove to win.
‘Eh, you nearly flattened me, Beat!’ Fanny Gentle, in the vicinity to deliver someone else’s child, steadied herself against a wall.
‘Sorry, Nurse!’ panted Beata. ‘I’m rushing to get home to see my baby brother.’ And she ran on.
‘Baby brother,’ scoffed Fanny to a passer-by. ‘That’s what her ladyship’s fobbing them off with, is it? Must be the longest pregnancy in history, their poor father’s been dead nigh eighteen months.’
Hungry for gossip, the other offered a willing ear. ‘So who’s fathered it then?’
Her tone disguised, Fanny’s mouth formed an exaggerated answer. ‘The eldest stepson.’
The listener’s jaw dropped in outrage. ‘Eh, isn’t there a law against that?’
‘If there isn’t there should be! But how could anybody prove it? She’s good at pulling the wool over people’s eyes, is that one. Anyway, I’ve stuck my neb in before, thinking I was helping the kids – she’s cruel to them, you know, oh terrible things she does – but it only made her worse. Mindst, I hear she’s a bit sweeter since the bairn arrived. Let’s hope it keeps her that way.’
* * *
Everyone sharing this point of view, it was a vast disappointment to all, not the least her smallest victims, when Eliza’s newfound maternity began to wane. Too unstable to be able to control herself for long, Eliza quickly regressed to her old habits.
In fact, nowadays, she seemed positively unhinged. If the bread wasn’t cut to the correct thinness so that it was virtually transparent, it would be tossed out of the window and the culprit beaten without mercy.
How could such a monster give birth to such a lovable baby? For Lionel was indeed the bonniest, happiest little fellow, greeting everyone with a smile that was like the flame of a candle in this dark place. Everyone adored him, but perhaps Mims most of all. It did not matter that he had replaced her as youngest in the family, for this had borne no advantage in the house of a tyrant. At least it had not for Mims. Too tiny to offend his mother, Lionel was the only one on whom Eliza never inflicted pain. Not merely for his sake, Mims prayed that he would remain this adorable little doll for ever.
* * *
Naturally, this hope could not be met, Lionel seeming to turn overnight from a baby to a toddler. But still, he retained his delightful, obedient nature and there were happy days to be had for Mims, who, given any opportunity, would wheel him in his pushchair over the Crags to parade him before her old neig
hbours in Denaby.
For a while Beata too had shared in this enjoyment but upon reaching her fourteenth birthday she had gone to work at Kilner’s Glass Factory, which left little time for play with her baby brother. It was not of her choosing to stand in one place all day long being deafened by the clinking and rattling of glass. She hated it. Her leg swelled up from being on her feet all day long. Nor was there any sanctuary at home. Oh, the extra money put a smile on her stepmother’s face, at least on pay day, but the fact that Beata was earning did not give her any leeway, for, over the weekend, Eliza still had plenty of chores for her to do. It was almost a relief to get back to work on Monday, or would have been had it not been accompanied by the knowledge that she was labouring for virtually no reward – unless one called the sixpence pocket money that Eliza doled out fair recompense. Beata deemed it nothing short of slavery.
It was futile to request a change of workplace, for, wherever she went, Eliza would take all her earnings. Doris had been put into service, but Beata’s request to be treated likewise was flatly refused, as she had known it would be.
‘Why would I want to send you away?’ retorted Eliza. ‘I’d not only lose your pension but you’d do a disappearing act like your sister. No, you’re staying where you are, at least until you’re sixteen.’
Two more years of this awful treatment was impossible to contemplate. Especially when, a few days later, Beata was on her hands and knees washing the floor and felt an excruciating blow to her back. Upon looking up she saw Eliza with a shoe in her hand and a spiteful expression on her face. Then, with no explanation, she blithely replaced the weapon on her foot and walked away, leaving Beata with a shoulder blade so painful that it just had to be broken.
A Different Kind of Love Page 48