A Different Kind of Love

by Sheelagh Kelly

  There followed an hour of quiet conversation before bedtime and, whilst Aunt Ethel’s treatment could never be classed as pampering, and the dark brown Victorian decor was somewhat oppressive, it was wonderful not to feel under constant threat of violence.

  ‘Well, you younger ones had better go to bed now,’ came their aunt’s brisk announcement.

  ‘Please may I be allowed to go up too?’ tendered Joe.

  Though admiring the young man’s manners, Ethel told him, ‘You don’t need to ask permission to go to bed in this house, dear.’

  Just then the door knocker sounded, setting the children instantly alert again.

  When Clem was admitted the younger ones collapsed into paroxysms of fear, Mims almost wetting herself, and when Aunt Meredith reached out a protective hand she flew to her.

  After greeting his aunts and uncle in friendly manner and removing his bicycle clips, Clem came straight to the point. ‘Well, you know why I’m here.’

  ‘Yes, we do,’ nodded Ethel. ‘But I’m afraid we can’t allow it.’

  Clem donned a firm expression. ‘You can’t stop me taking them, Aunt. You’re not their legal guardian.’

  ‘And we’ve all seen what their legal guardian’s done to them!’

  ‘That’s not fair, Aunt. Eliza’s tried to do her best. You have to understand how hard it was for her to be left a widow with nine of us to look aft

  ‘There’s not nine of you now, though, is there? And I doubt these poor little mites would still have been there had they been old enough to escape her cruelty.’

  ‘Eliza’s not cruel, she just—’

  ‘Yes, she is!’ Merry butted in now. ‘Stop defending her, Clem. This is your little sister and brother and you’re meant to look after them.’

  ‘And until you can be trusted to do that,’ said Ethel, ‘we’re taking over. Now, you’ll understand if I ask you to leave.’ Like a protective stone sentinel, the children behind her, she indicated the door, which Uncle Horace obligingly opened.

  With a sigh, Clem bent to replace his cycle clips, then rammed his cap on and left.

  But he had promised Eliza that he would not go home without them and, bearing this in mind, he sallied off to find a lodging house.

  * * *

  Secure in the custody of their aunts and uncle, after a good night’s sleep and generous breakfast the brothers said goodbye to Mims, from whom they would soon be parted.

  But, ‘Our train doesn’t go till eleven,’ said Aunt Meredith. ‘Go outside and get some sunshine whilst I have another cup of tea with Aunt Ethel and Uncle Horace.’

  Pedalling up the sloping red-brick terrace, Clem could not believe the luck that had brought his siblings unchaperoned into the small forecourt garden. Applying the brakes, he remained stationary for the moment lest his aunts appear, willing the youngsters to stray outside the gate and make it easier for him to spirit them away. He could hear their voices quite clearly.

  ‘I like Aunt Ethel and everything, even though she’s a bit strict,’ Joe was saying, kicking his heels back and forth along the strip of path under the bay window, ‘but I wished she lived somewhere different. Fancy living in Birdshit Place.’

  Mims and Duke convulsed with laughter at this play on words from their brother; the real name was Burchett.

  Tensed in readiness, heart thudding in his chest, Clem watched Mims climb up to sit upon the gate, whilst Duke jumped onto the low wall and started to walk along it. It was thus that they were alerted to the danger.

  The laughter on their faces turned to apprehension. Immediately donning a smile and pushing his bicycle, Clem tried to approach as casually as he could, waving in a brotherly manner. Urging Mims to get down, Joe headed for the lobby, his siblings after him.

  To stall any alarm being raised Clem called out in a cheery voice, ‘Hang on, Joe! I only want a word.’ Having succeeded in delaying him, he propped his bicycle against the kerb and came within grabbing distance of the younger ones.

  But Aunt Ethel must have heard his call too, for she emerged and hurried up to bar his entry, followed by her husband and Meredith.

  ‘I told you last night I’m not going back without them, Aunt.’ Though his opponent was formidable, Clem stood his ground.

  It seemed to work. After holding his determined hooded gaze for a few seconds, Aunt Ethel made sudden capitulation and opened the gate wide. ‘You’d better take them then.’

  Horrified at this betrayal, Mims and Duke tried to hide behind Aunt Meredith’s corseted body, though it did them no good, for their brother soon had them by the hands.

  ‘You and all, Joe,’ said Clem grimly.

  Wearing a sick expression, Joe turned to beseech the other adults for help, but just as Clem was about to lead the younger ones away their aunt produced her trump card.

  ‘Yes, you take them – and I’ll go straight down to the police station and tell them about the carryings-on between you and your stepmother!’

  Clem faltered. Neither he nor Eliza were sure if their relationship was incestuous, but both had been made well aware of the immorality of it by their neighbours’ opprobrium. He had no wish for it to be broadcast. Still, he held determinedly to the children’s hands.

  ‘Oh, I’d be embarrassed, yes,’ went on Ethel, to her sister’s and husband’s admiration. ‘But don’t think I’m bluffing. I’d suffer any amount of shame if it meant that those poor children were freed from cruelty.’ She transfixed him with her steely gaze, one that reminded him of his father. ‘Now, you can go back and tell Eliza she can kiss goodbye to her pension.’

  Clem looked down at his worried siblings, agonizing between his loyalty to them and to Eliza. ‘You want to come home with me, don’t you?’

  Having suffered at Clem’s hands, Duke was too petrified to answer and hung his head, but eventually Mims dared to utter a blunt, ‘No.’ Immediately, she felt sorry at creating the look of rejection on Clem’s face; the way he looked at her made her want to cry. They had shared such happy times together … once.

  But it was said now. Releasing them, Clem hesitated only briefly, then exited without a further word.

  A large man came through the gateway; having almost collided with an angry Clem he turned bemusedly to watch him throw his leg over a bicycle.

  ‘Chris!’ Meredith gave a delighted cry at the unexpected arrival of her husband.

  ‘Ted and Wyn turned up last night so I got him to drive me over to fetch you – mindst I had to pay for the petrol, tight bugger.’ He waved and smiled at Ted, who was assiduously polishing smears from the bonnet of his Open Tourer. ‘Has Clem been giving you trouble?’ His eyes followed his nephew as the latter pedalled away.

  ‘Nothing my dear wife couldn’t handle,’ announced Horace, with a smile for Ethel.

  Feeling tremors from the little girl at her side, Meredith bent to put an arm around her. ‘Don’t worry, dear, you really are safe now.’

  Uncle Christmas gazed upon the pretty but neglected child, running his eyes from the black hat she wore – one of Ethel’s, a great big thing with a large brim and pink roses on the front – down to the feet, which hung over the backs of her shoes, and murmured, ‘The poor little bugger, we must take her out and buy her some new clothes.’

  Then after a moment’s contemplation, his eyes still on the hat, he suddenly exclaimed, ‘Flaming roses – there’s a horse of that name running this afternoon. Start the car up again, Ted, I’ll have to get a bet on!’ And grabbing his wife with one hand and Mims in the other he hurried the little girl towards her new life with the promise, ‘If it wins you shall have all the clothes you want!’

  Tutting her disapproval, the strait-laced Ethel led her boys indoors. ‘We shall have to get you smartened up too.’

  Joe and Duke gave one last smiling wave as their sister was driven away in style, though relieved to be saved, both thinking wistfully that Mims had perhaps gone to the jollier household.

  * * *

  It was a very disillusione
d Clem who presented himself before Eliza, taking off his cap and explaining wearily that he had done his best, yet to no avail.

  But the histrionics he had been expecting never materialized. Eliza just stood there in the middle of the large sitting room, otherwise empty but for Lionel, who played near the hearth, tapping a lead soldier on the tiles. She looked completely lost. ‘That’s it then, they’ve all gone.’

  Still in his bicycle clips, Clem looked about him, then frowned. ‘Do you mean, George … ?’

  She stilled him with a doleful nod, her eyes dead as coal. ‘He walked out this morning. Said he wasn’t stopping here to be anybody’s slave.’

  ‘The insolent little—’ Clem rammed his cap back on preparing to go after him. ‘I’ll break his neck!’

  ‘It’s no use.’ Eliza was as he had never seen her before, her mouth turned right down like a crescent moon, her lower lip trembling with emotion. The dark eyes that looked at him swam with tears. ‘They’ve all left me, Clem. Every one of them.’

  One less humane might have declared: well, what did you expect, really? But Clem just took off his cap again, sighed and hung his head.

  ‘You’re not going to leave me too, are you?’

  He came alive then, the emotive query spurring him to rush up to her and take her in his arms, his voice loaded with compassion. ‘What, leave you and this little fellow? Never!’ Delivering a tight squeeze, he broke off temporarily to pick Lionel up and include him in the tableau, the little boy squashed between them, beholding his parents in wonder as they shared an emotional embrace. ‘Bugger them!’ Clem proceeded to dab kisses on the tear-stained face. ‘If they don’t want us we don’t want them. We’ll get rid of this big place and find somewhere more cosy – and damn the gossips too. We’ll move away where nobody knows us, where we can live in truth, just the three of us, you, me and our son. I’m sick of pretending I’m not his father and that you’re not my wife.’ He looked her directly in the eye and made a last fervent promise. ‘As far as I’m concerned, you are. And that’s how it’s going to be from now on.’

  24

  Beata had been working at Nunthorpe Hall only a few weeks when a letter came in childish hand to inform her that Mims was now lodged permanently at Aunt Meredith’s. It was a huge relief and, in the knowledge that her little sister and brothers had been rescued from further harm and that she herself was in no danger of being sent back to Eliza, despite the badly-bruised shoulder, Beata was able to throw herself wholeheartedly into her job.

  Whilst not exactly happy with her lot, it was no more than she was used to doing at home and at least here she would be paid, except that this was a much larger house and the constant running up and downstairs had a bad effect on her leg, which swelled so drastically that it hung over her shoe.

  Eyes drawn to the limb, Cook had been watching the kitchenmaid limp about; it was obviously extremely painful, yet not once had Beata complained. ‘That leg’s giving you gyp, isn’t it?’

  Still on the move, Beata nodded. ‘It feels really taut, as if it’s going to explode.’

  Cook winced in sympathy and issued a highly unusual invitation. ‘Come and sit down a minute.’

  ‘Nay, Mrs Willis, if I sit down I won’t want to get up,’ joked Beata.

  ‘Do as you’re told!’ In authoritative manner Mrs Willis stabbed a finger at the chair, then, when the youngster reluctantly sat in it, she bent down to have a closer look at the distended limb. ‘My goodness, you’ll have to go see the doctor.’

  ‘I haven’t got myself a medical card yet.’ Owing to the impromptu escape she had no documentation whatsoever. ‘He’ll want paying and I haven’t a bean.’

  Mrs Willis saw no obstacle. ‘I shall go and ask her ladyship for an advance on your wages.’

  Loath to spend hard-earned money only for the doctor to tell her what she already knew, Beata informed the cook, ‘I’ve always had it. It’ll go down of its own accord eventually.’

  ‘I’m not hearing any arguments! You can’t work with a leg like that.’

  ‘I’m doing my best,’ pleaded Beata.

  ‘That wasn’t a criticism.’ The frown turned to exasperation. ‘I meant, it isn’t right that you should have to work in such pain. Eh, you never grumble, do you?’

  Beata grinned. ‘There’s not much point, Cook, nobody’d listen. Anyway, I consider myself lucky to have a job at all when some poor chaps who fought for their country are reduced to peddling stuff off trays.’ Levering herself from the chair, she said, ‘I’d best get on.’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure you can manage, but I meant what I said about an advance on your wages and you can get yourself down to the doctor’s this evening.’

  Thinking it kind of her superior to show such concern, Beata dutifully went off after her day’s work, even though she knew the visit would turn out to be a waste of time and money. Added to which, she had no desire to hear confirmation that her life would be a short one; this frightening thought was usually pushed to the back of her mind.

  Sure enough, the doctor charged a deposit in lieu of proof that she was insured, then inflicted a series of deep thumbprints in her swollen leg. But there was a different pronouncement than before: ‘Lymphatic oedema.’

  ‘Excuse me, Doctor,’ she queried this tentatively, ‘I was told by someone else that it was dropsy.’

  ‘Dropsy is just a symptom.’

  Beata elaborated. ‘Caused by a bad heart, that doctor said.’

  After further questioning, her examiner put his stethoscope to her chest. ‘Your heart appears perfectly normal.’

  ‘So, I’m not a goner?’

  ‘Good Lord, no.’ And he repeated his former diagnosis. ‘Lymphatic oedema: we don’t know how it’s caused and there’s no cure – though it’s certainly not fatal in your case.’

  Relief washed over her as the awful burden that she had carried for over four years was instantly lifted.

  ‘Your only recourse is to find a less strenuous job.’

  ‘Some hopes,’ said Beata to the cook after a painful walk home. ‘I’ll just have to think myself lucky I’ve only got it in one leg.’ Reprieved from her sentence of death, she was in jovial mood, despite her pain.

  ‘Eh, you’re a good un, Beat!’ Mrs Willis shook her head in admiration. ‘The fit young lasses I’ve had through here, moaning about chapped hands, you’d put them to shame.’

  ‘Well, compared to what I’ve been used to, Cook, I regard it as Heaven.’ Beata’s small blue eyes twinkled. ‘Just as well. I’ll be working the next three days for nowt!’

  * * *

  There was little to be done about the pain, but after that initial setback with her wages Beata was eventually able to spend them more enjoyably on her evening off: tuppence for the tram into town, one and sixpence for her tea and ninepence for a seat at the pictures. Yet, it was quite a lonely existence for no one wanted to socialize with a kitchenmaid and, besides, they were all older than she, so, when her sister Madeleine turned up unexpectedly one Sunday afternoon, she was overjoyed to see her, even though the pair had never really got on.

  ‘Oh, dooo come in – I’m having an at home!’ With the servants’ sitting room empty Beata was at liberty to don airs and graces to entertain her sister on this her afternoon off. After the grandiose performance she laughed. ‘Eh, it’s great to see you! How did you know where I was?’

  ‘I’ve just been to visit our Gussie.’ Wearing a dark blue bucket-like hat that almost obscured her eyes, Madeleine sniffed rather haughtily. ‘Just as well, seeing as you never wrote and told me.’

  ‘Well, how did I know where you were?’ Beata laughed, though was rather hurt that after all this time apart her sister chose to be so tetchy. ‘You never put your address on that letter you sent me.’

  Madeleine took off her hat, underneath which her auburn hair had been shingled, as indeed had Beata’s the moment she had accrued enough money to visit the hairdresser. Beata took in Maddie’s uniform. Her sister had lost
weight and looked unusually pale, her skin almost translucent. ‘How’s the nursing going?’

  ‘It isn’t.’ Maddie sat down, slung one leg over the other and laced her fingers around a black stockinged knee, displaying a pointed shoe with a large buckle on its instep. ‘I can’t afford to continue my training, that’s why I’ve come to drum up help. Make us a cup of tea, Beat, I’m gasping.’

  Whilst arranging this, Beata mulled over a solution to the problem. Most of their relatives had already done so much for them; all but one. ‘Why don’t you write to Aunt Wyn? She’s supposed to be loaded.’

  Maddie brightened. ‘Oh, I will then. None of Mother’s side has a meg.’

  At first delighted to see a member of her family, after being treated like a servant by her sister for the next two hours, fetching one pot of tea after another, along with sandwiches, cake and biscuits, Beata was relieved when the rest of the domestic staff began to trickle in, prompting Madeleine finally to leave.

  However, she was to reappear on Beata’s next afternoon off.

  ‘So much for your good advice!’ The white barn owl face was peeved as its owner thrust a letter at Beata in return for a cup of tea.

  Aunt Wyn’s reply was short and to the point. Enclosed with it was a three-halfpenny stamp which, said the correspondent, ‘is all I have in the world.’

  Sighing over their aunt’s parsimony, Beata asked what she intended to do.

  ‘Do as I’ve always done, look after myself!’ Maddie swallowed half a cupful of tea in one go. ‘That’s cold. Make some fresh, will you?’

  Whilst, uncomplaining, Beata rinsed the teapot and set out clean cups, Madeleine stated her intentions. ‘I shall have to go back into service. I know it’s poor wages but at least that way I’ll get fed and have a roof over my head and be able to save every penny. You’ll put in a good word, won’t you?’