Hold On to Hope

by Jean Fullerton

  Joe perked up. ‘Are we going to Uncle Pat’s this year? And will there be plum pudding?’

  ‘No, we’ll be at Aunt Mattie’s and yes there’ll be plum pudding.’ The children bobbed on their seats with excitement. ‘Now clear away and start getting ready for bed. I’ll take some warm water up for you both for a quick wash.’

  Ella folded her work into Kate’s sewing box and collected her nightdress from the fender in front of the fire where it had been hung to air. She disappeared upstairs.

  ‘Maaaa, do I have to have a wash?’ Joe asked, dragging his feet across the rag rug after his sister.

  ‘I’ll let you get away with a cat’s lick tonight only because we’re going to the baths tomorrow, but brush your hair!’ she shouted after him as he dashed from the room.

  Kate tidied the table and then took down her accounts and order books along with the inkwell and pens from the top shelf of the dresser. She set them on the table and had just found the right pages when there was a knock on the back door.

  Kate went over and threw back the bolts. Patrick walked in, bringing a blast of icy air with him.

  ‘Brrr . . . it’s good to be out of the cold,’ he said, unwinding his scarf.

  ‘I was getting worried,’ Kate said, stretching up and kissing his chilly cheek. ‘You sit and warm yourself and I’ll fetch you a coffee.’

  Kate’s eldest brother Patrick favoured their long-dead father, and unlike Kate’s fair tresses his hair was black, albeit with a few grey streaks running through it. Sailing his barge the length of the Thames and back each day had kept him trim and staved off the effects of his wife, Josie’s, delicious home cooking.

  She took his coat and hung it up alongside her own then went through to the shop where she’d left the percolator on the back of the range. She cut Patrick a slice of bread pudding to eat with his coffee in the parlour. Patrick was sitting at the table running his finger down the column of the shop’s accounts.

  ‘There you go,’ she said, putting down the cup and plate at his elbow.

  He looked up and smiled. ‘Thanks, sis.’ He looked at the ceiling. ‘I don’t want to alarm you but I think you’ve got a couple of elephants running about up there.’

  Kate laughed and went to the bottom of the stairs. ‘Come and say a quick hello to your uncle Pat,’ she called up.

  There was a thundering of feet as Joe and Ella appeared.

  ‘Uncle Pat,’ they shouted as they launched themselves at him. Patrick caught one in each arm and hugged them both.

  ‘Are you behaving for your mother?’

  ‘Yes, Uncle Pat,’ they answered in unison.

  He kissed them both. ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

  ‘Ma says Aunt Mattie is getting a Christmas tree,’ Ella said, hugging him around the neck.

  ‘Is she?’ Patrick said in mock astonishment.

  The children giggled.

  ‘And this year it will be the best Christmas ever,’ said Joe.

  Patrick bounced him on his knee. ‘And why’s that?’

  ‘Because Pa will be there,’ Joe replied.

  Patrick’s jovial expression slipped a little as he looked over Joe’s head at Kate.

  Kate clapped her hands. ‘Right, Uncle Pat’s been at work all day and he has to do my books yet before he can go home, so kiss him goodnight.’

  The children gave their uncle a peck on the cheek and then ran back upstairs. Kate went to the hall door.

  ‘I’ll be up in a while,’ she called, without taking her eyes from Patrick’s humourless face.

  ‘So he’s back,’ he said, as she closed the door.

  Kate nodded.

  ‘When?’

  ‘Four days ago.’ She told him about the encounter with Freddie. ‘I haven’t seen him since.’

  Patrick stared at her for a moment then stood up and turned to face the fire. He gripped the mantelshelf and stood motionless for several seconds then spun around.

  ‘Bastard!’ He slammed his hand on the table. ‘I’d hoped to God after all this time that he’d be mouldering in his grave somewhere.’

  Concern replaced his fury as his gaze flickered over Kate. ‘Has he touched you or the children?’

  ‘I’d swing for him myself first,’ Kate replied. ‘Ella was wary of him from the moment he walked in but he made a bit of a fuss of Joe and now he thinks it’s wonderful to have his “pa” come home from “sea”.’

  ‘Sea?’

  ‘That’s where he said he’d been.’

  Patrick looked her over again. ‘What about you, Kate? Did he hurt you?’

  ‘Not really.’ Kate’s hand went to her high-buttoned neckline.

  Patrick hooked his finger into the top and pulled it down gently.

  Pain cut across his face. ‘Sweet Mary.’ He gasped as he saw the marks made by Freddie’s fingers.

  Kate put her hand over his, thankful he couldn’t see the bruise on her hip when she’d been shoved on the table. ‘Patrick.’

  He gathered her in his arms and kissed her forehead. ‘I’m sorry, sis. I curse the day I made him do the right thing by you.’

  Kate pushed him away. ‘And if you hadn’t, I’d never have had Joe,’ she replied. ‘And it shows we were right not to declare me as your partner in Kate’s Kitchen. If I legally owned half instead of you fronting the whole business, he’d be able to get his hands on all the money you saved for us.’ She bit her lip. ‘I’ve taken to hiding the day’s taking in a tin at the back of the grate so he can’t get his hands on more than a couple of shillings. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate but perhaps you could take the money to the bank twice a week in future. Just to keep it out of his grasp. And I wouldn’t fret too much, Pat. I doubt I’ll have to suffer his company too often. He’ll soon hook up with some floozy and disappear again.’

  ‘Well, let’s hope this time it’s for good.’ Patrick’s expression hardened. ‘Perhaps I’ll take him for a one-way trip up the estuary.’

  Kate gripped her brother’s arm. ‘Don’t you go doing something stupid. It’s not like the old days, you know. The police investigate bodies floating in the river now.’

  ‘Then I’ll make sure he’s weighed down.’

  ‘Promise me you won’t, Pat. He’s not worth it.’

  Patrick’s stubborn expression remained a few seconds longer and then he relaxed. ‘All right, but he’d better not lay a finger on you or the children again. Coppers or no coppers, he’ll find himself trussed up in the bottom of my boat on the outgoing tide.’

  Ma tucked the blanket under the mattress then bent over him and kissed him. ‘Goodnight, Joe,’ she said, smoothing his hair off his forehead gently.

  ‘Night, Ma,’ he replied with a yawn.

  She turned to Ella, whose bed was on the other side of the room. She gave her a peck on the cheek and then picked up the lamp and left the room, leaving the door half open. Joe listened to his mother’s footsteps as she went down the stairs then he pulled the sheet up until it was firmly under his chin. He closed his eyes and was mulling over which of his marbles to offer Dicky Potter for his big green and brown one when his uncle Pat’s booming laugh drifted up from the room below.

  He turned his head and looked across at his sister. ‘When do you think Pa will be back?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Ella said.

  ‘Maybe he’ll come tomorrow.’

  ‘He might,’ Ella replied, in a voice that said otherwise.

  ‘He’s just as I imagined him,’ Joe said. ‘Did you hear him say I had my dabs right? And how I looked like him?’

  Ella didn’t answer.

  ‘I bet he’s had so many adventures. Like fighting off wild natives and battling storms just like Uncle Pat did when he was at sea. I expect he’ll tell me all about them when we go fishing.’

  ‘What makes you think he’ll take you anywhere?’

  ‘Cos Uncle Nat takes Brian and Bert and Uncle Pat takes Mickey and Rob.’ Joe gazed up at the ceiling and imagined himself with a f
ishing rod in his hand, dangling his feet over the edge of the canal with his father alongside him. ‘And then Pa and me will stroll down the Highway or along the Waste to get some hot chestnuts.’

  ‘I wouldn’t count on it,’ replied Ella.

  Joe turned and glared at her. ‘You’re just jealous cos he didn’t make a fuss of you.’

  Again Ella didn’t respond. In the dark Joe practised lifting one eyebrow without moving the other, the way his father had. ‘Why do you think Uncle Patrick looked annoyed when I mentioned Pa?’

  ‘Go to sleep, Joe.’

  ‘I thought he’d be pleased Pa was back so he wouldn’t have to go to the bank for Ma any more,’ Joe continued. ‘But he wasn’t. He looked like he did that time he had to go and fetch Cousin Mickey from the police station after he was arrested for brawling.’

  ‘You’re too young to understand,’ Ella replied, shifting in her bed and making the springs bong. ‘I’ve got a spelling test tomorrow so stop talking and let me go to sleep.’

  Joe studied the shape of his sister under the piles of blankets for a moment then poked his tongue out. He turned over and snuggled down.

  It was all right for Ella, she had Ma to show her things and take her places but he didn’t even have an older brother. He couldn’t count the number of times Uncle Pat had taken him on his barge or he’d ridden alongside Uncle Nat on one of his coal wagons, but it wasn’t the same. Although they played around and joked with him and called him a ‘good lad’ and ‘top chap’ they never looked at him in that special way they did when their eyes rested on their own sons.

  But Pa had. And now he was back. It was almost too wonderful for Joe to take in all at once. Pa would put an end to Ella teasing and stop Ma treating him like a baby. And best of all, Smugger Black or Eddie Walters wouldn’t be able to spread it around that his father was the rent man or the brush salesman because when they saw him and Freddie walking side by side, everyone would know who his father was and that he’d come home.

  Joe’s eyes fluttered closed and he yawned. His father was home and from now on everything would be different.

  Jonathan leant on the polished bar of the officers’ mess in Colchester barracks and stared into the bottom of his glass for a moment then threw back what remained of his drink. He picked up the bottle next to his elbow and tried to pour another but it was empty. He held it up.

  ‘Same again,’ he called to the steward hovering at the other end.

  The young man hesitated briefly then took another bottle of brandy from the shelf behind him and brought it over.

  ‘There you go, sir,’ he said, uncorking it. ‘And whose mess bill shall I—’

  ‘Mine,’ said a voice behind him.

  Jonathan turned to find Reggie Braithwaite standing behind him.

  ‘And bring another glass,’ Reggie added.

  ‘Very good, sir.’ The steward set a glass beside the newly opened bottle and shot away.

  Reggie poured himself a drink and then topped up Jonathan’s. ‘This is not like you, Quinn, wallowing in your cups. But I suppose it’s understandable, drinking to forget it’s your last day in the army.’

  ‘It’s not the army that’s caused me to down a bottle of brandy, but this.’ He dragged a crumpled letter from his pocket and slammed it on the table. ‘It’s from Louise. She broken off our engagement.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Reggie said softly. ‘Did she say why?’

  Jonathan gulped down a large mouthful and glared at the envelope with Louise’s spidery handwriting. ‘Pretty much what she said when I told her; that I’ve taken leave of my senses and that I’m selfishly throwing away our future happiness on a whim. I know it was a shock for her but I’d hoped that once she had time to get used to the idea she’d come around to my way of thinking, but it seems not. She further writes that as both her grandfathers served under Wellington, her father was decorated after the battle for Kabul and her three brothers are currently serving in the Sudan, Egypt and Singapore respectively, she can’t imagine herself anything other than an officer’s wife. She concludes by telling me that I’ve betrayed her trust and she never wants to see me again.’

  He threw the last of his brandy down his throat, grabbed the bottle from Reggie and refilled his glass.

  ‘And if that wasn’t bad enough, in the same post I received a letter from the family’s solicitors saying my allowance has been suspended until – and I quote – “I resume my duty to Queen and Country” and another from the East India Company informing me that because of the volatile situation with some of the northern tribesmen they aren’t appointing any new regional commissions in the near future but they will keep my application on file.’

  Reggie refilled his glass. ‘That’s damn bad luck.’

  Jonathan emptied it in one.

  ‘What will you do?’ Reggie said.

  ‘Swear off women for a start,’ Jonathan replied, as an image of Louise, furious and tearful, loomed into his mind.

  ‘Of course you are.’

  ‘I bloody am. Well, at least letting them wheedle their way into my soul like I did with Louise. No, I shall be sensible about this whole damn marriage thing and pick a reasonable woman like old Ginger Ollerton did.’

  ‘So you’ll be looking for a woman like Ginger’s wife, will you?’ Reggie asked, barely keeping the amusement from his voice.

  ‘Well, a little less bovine perhaps, but I’m done with letting myself be led down the path by a pretty face and sparkling eyes. A woman with a bit of money and a soft tongue will do me nicely,’ he replied.

  Reggie laughed. ‘I’m sure it will but seriously, do you have any plans?’

  ‘In the short term, go to my sister for a few days and then to London,’ Jonathan continued. ‘I have a little saved so I can find rooms in town and put out some feelers. In the long term there’s still Australia, of course, but I’ll have to go there to stake my claim and I really had my sights set on India, but after this,’ he lifted Louise’s letter again, ‘I don’t know. But I’ll have to find something soon or I’ll be living on the streets while I wait for the pen-pushers at East India House to contact me again.’ He took another large measure of brandy. ‘Women! I’m finished with them.’

  ‘Well, I’ll drink to that.’ Reggie raised his glass. ‘And the Queen!’

  ‘The Queen,’ repeated Jonathan.

  ‘Of course, while you’re searching for this sensible woman you could think about taking up my suggestion,’ Reggie said, slowly.

  Jonathan looked puzzled. ‘What suggestion?’

  ‘The headmaster’s post at St Katharine’s?’ he said quietly.

  Jonathan laughed. ‘I told you, Reggie. You’re barking up the wrong tree with that one. I’d be better off sailing on the next boat to Botany Bay.’

  He started to raise his glass again but Reggie gripped his arm. ‘I’m not asking you to bury yourself in east London for the rest of your life but it might give you a little breathing space. And what if you sail off on the first ship to Australia and then Louise changes her mind?’

  Jonathan looked thoughtful. ‘I suppose you have a point but it’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, even from you!’

  ‘But it’s perfect,’ Reggie continued. ‘You’ve got nothing planned and you’ll be able to bash it into shape in a month or two.’

  ‘But I don’t know the first thing about being a headmaster,’ Jonathan replied, wondering why he was even bothering to put up reasoned arguments against such a crackbrained notion.

  ‘You’ve been to school, haven’t you?’

  ‘Of course, but—’

  ‘Then copy all the bits you enjoyed and chuck out stuff you didn’t,’ Reggie cut in. ‘It can’t be much different from licking a company of raw recruits into shape and you’ve done that often enough.’

  ‘But what about the girls?’

  ‘You’ll have a schoolmistress to order them.’ He sat forward eagerly. ‘Look, Jonathan. You’ve got no income and who
knows how long it will be until the East India Company contact you, so here’s the perfect, nay the providential, solution to both our problems.’

  ‘That may be so but—’

  ‘It will give you time to think instead of jumping at the first thing that comes to you. Plus, you’ll be helping a brother-in-arms.’

  Jonathan studied his friend’s enthusiastic face. Him a schoolmaster? In charge of a bunch of children and answerable to a committee of do-gooders?

  Reggie looked eagerly at him. ‘Just go and see, Jonathan, that’s all I ask.’

  It was preposterous, absurd, and ludicrous. He’d be mad to agree. But . . .

  He swallowed the last of his drink and put the glass down. ‘All right, Reggie. I’ll take a look – just a look – but I’m not promising anything.’

  Kate shovelled another half-dozen large lumps of coal into the oven fire and lifted the teapot.

  ‘Another cup?’ she asked.

  Mattie looked up and nodded.

  ‘I hope Joe doesn’t get too cold,’ Kate said as she put the kettle on the range. ‘It’s freezing out there.’

  ‘Boys don’t feel the cold. My Bertie’s the same,’ Mattie replied.

  ‘It’s a pity you couldn’t bring him today.’

  ‘He wanted to come but the doctor said he was to stay in bed until his temperature was down. Plus he loves being looked after by Nathaniel’s sister. With Brian helping his father in the yard and Beth at school he’d have her undivided attention.’

  ‘And some extra little treats no doubt,’ Kate said.

  Mattie laughed and held up the line of green, yellow and red bunting triangles strung along a length of tape. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I’d say you need to pin them higher than last year.’ Kate laughed. ‘Do you remember how Pat caught it with his shoulder and Nathaniel tangled the garlands around his legs when we played blind man’s bluff?’

  ‘They were more like a couple of nippers than grown men!’

  ‘That they were. There wasn’t this to-do about Christmas when we were children,’ Kate said as she set a fresh cup of tea next to her sister. ‘I remember going to church with Ma, of course, and a bit of something special for dinner, but Pa still went to work. Now the streets are deserted.’