Songbird

by Bell, Julia

  I waited for them to respond eagerly but a deathly silence fell. It was Gwilym who finally spoke.

  “The theatre tickets will be expensive but how can you afford the dinner dance at the Guildhall?”

  I shrugged indifferently. “Don’t worry about that, you just enjoy yourself.” I turned back to the tree, but not before I saw Nan’s pensive look. “I want this to be a wonderful Christmas,” I said. “I want to forget all the pain.”

  That seemed to do it. Suddenly we were all hugging each other and Danny pushed his way into the centre of our little group and put his tiny arms round us.

  “I wuv you,” he lisped and I pulled him close, wiping away the tears on my cheeks.

  Mrs Holland took me into the small bedroom where I had had my previous examination. This time I lay on the bed and lifted my skirt and petticoat while she pressed her hand over my womb.

  Her face lit up in a brilliant smile. “Well, I knew I would feel something but it’s good to know the baby is actually there.” Her gentle, podgy fingers continued their prodding. “Three months I should say, so we are right on target.” She helped me to my feet. “How’s the sickness?”

  “Gone.”

  “Excellent.”

  Back in the parlour I heard some mystifying news, although Mrs Holland relayed it to me as though she was informing me about the weather. I stared at her in amazement.

  “France? I’m to have the baby in France?”

  “Yes, my dear.”

  “But why?”

  “Because it’s away from prying eyes.”

  I felt very subdued. “Well, I thought I might have to travel somewhere, but I didn’t think it would be out of England.”

  In fact, I had wondered if I would have the baby at Gibson Place.

  “I’ll be with you, of course. My instructions are that I must always be on hand.”

  I thought for a moment. “France is a big country. Whereabouts in France?”

  “I can’t give you many details at the moment, but all I will tell you is that it’s in the Bretagne region, near Rennes.”

  “When will this be?”

  She nodded. “It’s been agreed that we will go at the end of February when you’re five months gone. We mustn’t leave it any later or you’ll start to show.”

  “I thought I’d pull my corset tighter,” I said.

  Mrs Holland wagged her finger at me. “I know the society ladies do that, but not you. All right, I don’t mind until we leave, but once in France you’ll wear loose clothing and no corsets.”

  Suddenly, another thought swept over me. “Oh no, I can’t leave at the end of February.”

  “Why not, my dear?”

  I nearly blurted it out and only just stopped myself. “I have a commitment at the beginning of March. I can’t leave until after the fourth.”

  She pursed her lips. “Can you leave on the fifth?” I nodded slowly. “Then I shall book our passage for that day.”

  I left Gibson Place feeling a little more cheerful. Perhaps a little time in France would be beneficial, it might even turn out to be enjoyable. But at least I wouldn’t miss Danny’s second birthday. I couldn’t bear to be away from my little boy on his birthday.

  I gave Danny another mouthful of potato and turnip and a small piece of sausage. He pushed my hand away.

  “Danny do,” he said crossly and deftly spooned the food into his mouth without dropping one bit.

  I smiled and picked up my teacup, gently sipping the contents. “I might be going to France, Nan,” I said carelessly, as if I did it every day.

  She turned sharply in her seat almost knocking the milk jug over. “France? Why?”

  I cleared my throat and took in a breath. “I’ve been offered a position at a ladies academy near Rennes.”

  “Teaching music?”

  “Naturally.”

  “Are we going to live in France? I never thought I’d go abroad.”

  I shook my head. “Well, I’m not sure how it’ll turn out.” I gave a strained laugh. “I might hate it. So, there’s no point in us all uprooting and moving until I know what it’s like.”

  “Only you will be going?”

  I reached out and took her hand. “Do you mind? Will it be all right if I leave Danny in your care?”

  She looked at her nephew and smiled. “I don’t mind that at all. But what’s your plan?”

  “I thought I would stay for his birthday and then leave the day after. I’ll write, naturally and if I don’t like it then I’ll come straight home.”

  “But if you do like it, we’ll come out and join you?”

  “Let’s take it one step at a time. I might not like living in the land of garlic and frogs’ legs.”

  Nan frowned. “But what about your plans for the academy and your audition for the scholarship in July?”

  “Do you think I might get it this year?”

  “They say third time lucky.”

  “If anything, I’ll be back for the scholarship,” I said adamantly. And then added, “I’m sure I’ll be in the next school of students attending the academy.” I sipped my tea and tried not to look smug.

  Nan gave a half-smile and her eyes drifted to the gold and diamond fob watch pinned to the bodice of my dress.

  “I’ve booked our passage from Portsmouth to Brest on the fifth of March, my dear,” said Mrs Holland at my visit in early February. “We’ll be sailing on a ship stupidly named the Dorothy-May. Now, will you be able to make your own way to Waterloo Station?” I nodded. “Good. Take a cab to the station and make sure the cabby lifts your luggage. No carrying for you. Take what you think you’ll need for four months, but don’t worry too much about clothes. The required garments will be provided for you.” She had an afterthought. “Oh, and pack a small bag for the sailing. It will take us two days to cross to Brest and that means an overnight stay in a cabin.”

  “Where will we be staying in France?” I asked quietly.

  Mrs Holland’s expression became animated. “We are staying, my dear, in a beautiful chateau called Chateau St Julienne just six miles from Rennes.” I looked blankly at her. “We are to be the honoured guests of the Duc and Duchesse de St Julienne.”

  I felt puzzled. Did this duc and duchesse know the circumstances surrounding the baby I was carrying? They must be good friends of Karl. Karl! I had tried not to think of him, but the memory would catch me unawares. My eyes strayed to the part of the room where I had first seen him. I tried to remember what he looked like. I remembered his height and the cut of his clothes. But I couldn’t remember his features. He was growing distant, slowly fading from my memory like fine sand through a sieve. I hadn’t seen him for four months but it might as well be four years.

  “What time must I meet you at Waterloo?” I said.

  “The train leaves at midday. It’s approximately two hours to Portsmouth and we sail, as they say, on the evening tide.”

  “I suppose this is my last visit to you here at Gibson Place?”

  “It is indeed, my dear. But I’m expecting the quickening to happen very soon. Please make a note when you first feel the baby move.”

  “How long will we be in France?”

  “After you’ve had the baby, you’ll have a further two weeks at the chateau in order to recover and then we’ll travel home the same way we came.”

  “And then it will be over.”

  Mrs Holland nodded. “My lady and gentleman have made me responsible for seeing that you receive your money as soon as we arrive back in England.”

  A thought suddenly struck me. “Will they be in France?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say.”

  As I made my way home, I realised that they would come to France when the baby was due. They would take the child home with them. I took in a huge breath. I would be richer by twelve hundred pounds in a very short time. All my dreams would come true. I just needed to concentrate on my ambitions. The Royal Academy of Music. Covent Garden. Singing.

  The
child within me had become a nonentity. I rarely thought of it. There was none of the joy I had felt when I was expecting Danny. And when the tiny kicks started two weeks after my last visit to Gibson Place, I made a note of the day and then ignored them. They didn’t mean anything to me. I wanted it to be at an end. Despite Mrs Holland’s wonderful organisation I was heartily sick of being controlled. I wanted my life back and I wanted to be Mrs Isabelle Asquith and wear my wedding ring all the time. For all that I was fruitful in body, I was hollow in my heart and mind, an empty shell that had been scooped out by my desperate love for a man I had known for only a short time.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  I had to hold onto Danny’s hand tightly as we descended the stairs. He was two years old and he knew that it was his special day. His gifts were in the parlour ready for him to open and his excitement was infectious. I giggled as he pulled me along, warning him to ‘slow down’ and ‘take it steady’.

  Nan was already in the kitchen and appeared at the door, grinning. “I’m surprised he slept until seven,” she said. ‘I expected him to be up at five.”

  “He did wake up,” I nodded. “But I sang his favourite songs and he slept for a few hours more.” He gave a squeal of delight and started pulling the packages off the table. “No, Danny! One at a time,” I told him, laughing.

  Nan came through from the kitchen and we both knelt on the floor helping him to open his gifts. Some of our neighbours in Laurel Close had also sent him something and we couldn’t help laughing as he opened the one containing the pale green hat, scarf and gloves knitted by Mrs Ryan. I pulled the hat over his blond locks and he chuckled. Mrs Hemmings sent him a spinning top. Nan had made him some new shirts and I had bought him a jigsaw puzzle. But it looked like Gwilym’s present won the day. A scream of delight burst from him when he pulled off the paper and revealed a hobby-horse, in beautifully painted varnished wood. He immediately jumped onto it and galloped round the room and Nan and I disappeared to the kitchen to have our breakfast in peace.

  I was leaving the following morning. My trunk was packed and a cab was coming for me at eleven. I was glad to be going even though I would miss everyone terribly, especially my little boy. I kept telling myself that it was only for four months, but four months can be a long time when a person is away from those they love. But I needed to go. I was now five months pregnant and my corset was holding in my figure with great difficulty. I hardly gave the baby a thought and when it moved, I had trained myself to dismiss it from my mind.

  Gwilym and Nan had wanted to come to the station with me, but I had begged them not to. The reason I gave was that I couldn’t bear to say goodbye and it would probably make me sad for the rest of my journey. That was partially true, of course. Gwilym had said his goodbyes the evening before Danny’s birthday, kissing my forehead and wishing me well. I was terrified that he might suddenly turn up at the railway station and surprise me, but when he said he was on duty that morning, I was more than relieved.

  I had relinquished my pupils, giving them the name of a good music teacher who would take my place. That had been a wonderful task and I knew I wouldn’t miss any of them, except Francis Pelham.

  And so my child’s special day passed and when I tucked him up in bed, I sang softly to him until his eyes closed. Nan and I talked well into the night and it was nearly midnight before we finally retired. She was worried about my decision to work in France. It had happened far too quickly, she said. Was I sure that that was what I wanted? I promised that I would write and assured her that I wouldn’t stay at this ‘ladies academy’ if I found it unsuitable. I felt guilty at deceiving her, but I had no choice. How could I tell her that I was expecting a child by an anonymous married man, I had known for only a few weeks and I intended giving up the child in exchange for money? She would have been horrified.

  The following morning the farewells were brief and I spent as little time as possible hugging Danny goodbye. As I climbed into the cab, I tried to smile at the tall figure of my sister-in-law standing on the doorstep holding my child. I waved as the driver snapped his whip and the horse pulled forward. When we reached the end of Laurel Close, I pulled off my wedding ring and placed it in its velvet bag before pushing it in a pocket of my valise. And then I sat back and tried to stem the tears trickling down my face.

  When I arrived at Waterloo Station I was quite relieved to see Mrs Holland waiting for me. She had everything organised, as usual, and was soon directing porters with our luggage. The train journey was uneventful. I watched the scenery pass, while Mrs Holland sat contentedly with her knitting. We didn’t speak much and finally arrived at Portsmouth where a cab took us to the busy port. I followed Mrs Holland like a chick follows a mother hen, taking no part in anything, happy to leave everything in her capable hands. My interest revived when I saw the Dorothy-May.

  As we climbed the gangway I looked up at the two masts that seemed to touch the clouds and the large funnel standing proudly between them. Mrs Holland disappeared below to sort out our cabin and organise our luggage, but I wanted to stay on deck. I stood at the rail and looked about me, marvelling at the frantic activity associated with a busy port.

  “Good afternoon, ma’am.”

  I turned to see a smartly dressed officer raising his hand to his peaked cap. “Good afternoon,” I replied. I pointed to the quayside. “It seems so busy.”

  He smiled. “It always is when a ship is about to set sail.”

  I looked at my watch. “But it’s only three o’clock. I thought we weren’t sailing until five.”

  He gave a quiet laugh. “There’s a lot to do before five o’clock, ma’am. May I introduce myself? Captain Oliver McAllen.”

  “Mrs…Miss Pritchard. I’m travelling to Brest.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. You’ll enjoy the hospitality of my ship for only a short time.” He smiled and I could see he was a charmer. I felt the colour flood into my cheeks, as I realised he was flirting with me.

  I quickly changed the subject. “So, you’re the captain of this…” I gestured along the deck.

  “This is a passenger and cargo steamer, ma’am, less than a year old, she is. Launched on the Clyde last April. Have you seen your cabin yet?”

  “No, sir, I haven’t.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be very comfortable. We have a wonderful lounge and dining room too.”

  I threw back my head and laughed, feeling more relaxed. “You’re obviously very proud of your ship, Captain. Where do you sail after Brest?”

  “From Brest, we continue south to Lisbon, then Cape Town and finally Sydney in Australia.”

  “You’re travelling a fair distance. It’s a long time to be away from your family.”

  “Yes,” he grinned. “But I’m not married so I have no wife pining away for me.” Someone called him and he turned his head for a moment to answer. When he turned back he was smiling. He raised his hand in a polite salute. “Perhaps you would care to join me for dinner tonight Miss Pritchard?” He was interrupted by the appearance of Mrs Holland, ambling along with her skirts rustling like dry leaves. The captain watched her approach with an amused expression. “And your mother of course.” He was gone before I had time to explain.

  “Oh, my dear, it’s absolutely wonderful. Come and see for yourself.”

  She took my arm and guided me below. She was right.

  Our cabin was indescribable. There were two berths placed adjacent to one another and the room gleamed with varnished oak and gleaming brass.

  “How beautiful,” I gasped. “I never realised it would be like this.”

  She nodded in satisfaction. “My lady and gentleman want only the best for you.”

  “So, I see. What a pity it’s only one night.” I winked mischievously. “Shall we stay aboard and travel on to Australia?”

  “How do you know this ship is sailing to Australia?”

  “The captain told me.” I added nonchalantly, “Oh, by the way, he’s invited us to join him for dinner tonigh
t.”

  Mrs Holland’s face was a picture. “You’ve been talking to the captain and he’s invited us…! I don’t believe this. You’ve not been aboard an hour and you’re already getting dinner invitations.”

  I shrugged smugly. “It must be my charming manner that swept him off his feet.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I can’t understand why you haven’t been snapped up before now. I don’t think there’s any danger of you staying single for long, my dear. And I told…my lady the same thing.”

  I felt stunned. “Did you?”

  “Oh yes. And she agreed that you should have a husband.”

  “Perhaps she could find me one amongst all her affluent friends,” I said acidly.

  She stopped rearranging her toiletries and gave me a worried look. But I ignored her. I turned my back on her and concentrated on unpacking my valise and laying out the gown I was going to wear that evening. I smiled to myself. Whatever my lady’s opinion, marriage was not part of my plans.

  I was very excited when it was time for us to set sail and I dragged Mrs Holland up on deck to see the ship depart. Standing at the rail, I linked my arm through hers and for a while we really could have been mother and daughter. Happiness flooded through me and I felt excited. In a way I was on the home stretch now. Once in France, I needed to get through the last part of my pregnancy and deliver the child. Then it would be home to Nan and Danny. The thought of my son made me swallow hard. I already missed him so much.

  The sea breeze felt wonderful on my face as I watched the passengers saying their farewells. There was quite a crowd collected on the quayside and a great deal of tears, hugging and kissing in progress. Turning round, I watched the sailors as they went about their duties, curling up ropes and many other mysterious labours. I could see the captain standing high up, shouting commands that seemed barely intelligible, yet were understood by the crew, since they answered instantly.The funnel started to belch smoke and the cry of ‘All aboard’ was shouted. The passengers, who had remained on the quayside to say their goodbyes, ran up the gangway that was immediately removed. The mooring ropes were cast into the water and hauled on deck. Slowly the ship moved away from the pier and the tugboats started to pull us out of the harbour and into open water.