‘There must be some other way,’ Mrs Benson said, as panic fluttered in her chest. ‘And if you and Kate are innocent of any wrongdoing then why go? Surely, your sudden departure would only set tongues wagging as people put two and two together.’
‘Possibly, but they will soon forget. Don’t you see it’s for Kate’s sake I have to go because I’m just not strong enough to see her every day and not want to make her mine. This time she was able to swear her innocence in good conscience but if I stay . . .’ He raked his fingers through his hair as a tortured expression twisted his face.
Ignoring the dull throbbing in her side, Mrs Benson beckoned him to the chair beside her. He hesitated for a moment then walked back and sat down. She reached out and moved a stray lock of hair from his forehead the way she’d done a hundred times before from Christopher’s, then took his hand. ‘You must hold on to hope, Jonathan.’
He looked into her eyes then lifted her hand to his lips and pressed it there. ‘Loath as I am to argue with you, my dearest Mrs Benson, I fear that in this case there is none.’ He kissed her hand again then stood up. ‘Thank you for your offer of tea but you must conserve your strength so I’ll leave you to rest. I’ll tell Willamore on my way out.’ He walked to the door. ‘I’ll call on Tuesday as usual, if I may?’
‘I shall look forward to it as always,’ she replied, knowing she would never see him again in this life.
Mrs Benson sank back and closed her eyes. He was right, of course. While Freddie stood between them there was very little chance of Jonathan and Kate being together. If he stayed he might become reckless and that would ruin them both. A feeling of frustration swept over her. Jonathan needed her and here she was, a useless old woman with no more than a day or two left to her. It was so unfair. Why couldn’t I have another year or so? Why couldn’t . . . She pressed her hands together on her chest. Forgive me, Lord, your will be done. The gnawing pain was spreading towards her spine and building momentum. She opened one eye and looked at the bottle of medicine. She closed it again. Lord, if it be your will, grant Jonathan his heart’s desire.
A warm breeze passed over her and she looked up, thinking the window had been left open, but the lace curtains hung limply from their poles. She shivered and her Bible fell open. She read the passage and then rang the small hand bell on the table beside her furiously. Willamore appeared immediately.
‘Send a message to Mr Gillespie and ask him to call on me in an hour, no later. And tell him it’s urgent.’
From the pulpit at the far end of the church, Mr Overton drew a deep breath before launching himself into the next part of his sermon. Kate shifted in her seat but kept her eyes on Mrs Benson’s black-draped coffin in the centre of the nave. The front pews of St George’s were filled with members of the parish council and local dignitaries. Behind them were the employees from the various companies she owned. The local tradesmen and St George’s congregation were packed into the remaining seats. Sitting alone in the front pew sat Mrs Benson’s only surviving relative, Mr Rogers, the son of her cousin. Throughout the service he’d tried to look suitably mournful at the loss of a dear relative but the fact that he’d inherited all of Mrs Benson’s considerable fortune couldn’t help but lift his expression from time to time. Jonathan sat straight-backed in the third pew, and even at this distance she could see the pain in his face.
The vicar finally concluded his doleful address, made the sign of the cross and climbed down from the pulpit. The congregation rose while the pallbearers took up their positions and, in one swift movement, gracefully heaved the coffin to their shoulders. The vicar moved to the front and the procession started slowly towards the church door. The mourners peeled off row by row and followed. As Jonathan passed the end of her pew their gazes met. He gave her a bleak look and then walked by.
Kate filed out with the rest of the congregation and stepped out of the church as the hearse arrived, drawn by a pair of black horses. The pallbearers carefully placed the coffin in the back, with sprays of flowers around it. The crowd started to drift away and Kate made ready to leave but saw that Captain Quinn was heading towards her.
‘Good day, Mrs Ellis,’ he said, raising his hat.
‘Good day, Captain Quinn.’
There was a pause as they stared helplessly at each other, then Jonathan looked away.
‘It was good of you to come.’
‘Mrs Benson was so kind to me – to everyone – I wanted to pay my last respects.’
‘As did many,’ Jonathan said, indicating the throng of people milling around the church doors.
‘I’m not surprised. She did so much for those in need, like organising the church wives to distribute baby clothes to new mothers. She even delivered Ella and Joe’s clothes herself. I remember she picked Joe up and he was sick down the skirt of her beautiful gown. I was red with embarrassment but she shrugged and said it would sponge.’
‘That sounds very like her,’ Jonathan said, with an echo of a smile. ‘At least now she will be at peace with her husband and son.’
‘God bless her and keep her, so she is,’ replied Kate. ‘There wasn’t a dry eye in the neighbourhood when we heard Master Christopher had been killed. I don’t know how she carried on after such a loss.’
Jonathan watched the coaches rolling through the church gate. ‘Mrs Benson had such faith in the Almighty and firmly believed that everything happened for a purpose.’ He looked down at Kate. ‘I only wish I had her faith.’
‘Yes. She was an example to us all,’ Kate replied, softly.
Jonathan’s gaze travelled slowly over her. ‘You are looking very well, Kate.’
She looked away. ‘Jonathan. Please I . . .’
‘I’m sorry but when you’re near I can’t help myself,’ he said.
‘Oh, Captain Quinn,’ a trill voice cut between them.
They looked around to see Mabel dashing towards them, her black mourning silks rustling as she moved between the gravestones.
‘Thank goodness I found you,’ she said, stopping breathlessly in front of them. ‘Mrs Harrison’s invalid chair has become jammed in the church hall doors and I wonder if you could help free her?’
‘Of course,’ Jonathan replied.
‘I had better get back to the shop,’ Kate said, retying her bonnet ribbon.
Miss Puttock gave her a haughty smile. ‘Of course you must.’ She started back across to the hall. ‘Captain Quinn, Mrs Harrison would be most grateful for your assistance.’
Jonathan raised his hat again. ‘Good day to you, Mrs Ellis.’
Kate stared up at him, unable to speak. He again looked bleakly at her for a moment, then turned and strode off.
With her heart feeling like a lead weight in her chest, Kate watched him walk away with Miss Puttock beside him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Aggie blew on her hands to warm them as she studied the muted light in the window above Kate Ellis’s chop house. If she’d known she’d still be standing around this long she would have put her coat on. Who’d have thought a woman who was up at dawn would still be burning a candle at this time of night?
Something brushed against her skirt and Aggie looked down at Inchy Pete, standing beside her. Although he was seven years old, the top of his head barely reached her elbow, and with sticks for legs it looked as if a strong breeze would carry him off. She wondered in passing what happened to his mother.
Aggie had been about ten when her mother sobered up enough to stagger out of the hovel she, her younger sister Suzy and brother Arty lived in to ‘get a bite of something’ and disappeared for ever. After her mother vanished, Arty had told her he’d look after them. He walked them all the way from Hoddesdon to London and then sold her and Suzy to the house in the Haymarket for five pounds. After which Aggie decided she’d look after herself.
A gust of wind disturbed the river fog floating just above the cobbles and the boy shivered. Aggie whacked him around the head.
‘Stop fidgeting,’ she hiss
ed.
He rubbed his ear and glared up at her in the dim glow from the street lamp. ‘’Ow long we going to be here then?’
‘Until I tell you otherwise.’
‘What we hanging about for, anyhow?’
‘Belt up.’
‘Does Mr Ellis know—’
Aggie grabbed his ear, twisted it and then pulled him to her. ‘Never mind Mr Ellis, you poxy little runt.’
Terror shot across Inchy’s face and he nodded rapidly.
Aggie twisted his ear again and he whimpered. ‘Remember I’m someone you don’t want to cross.’
She let go of him. The boy gave her another hateful look then, covering his injured ear with his hand, huddled further into the doorway. Just then the light in the upstairs window disappeared. A church clock nearby struck eleven and on the last chime the beat constable appeared around the corner. Automatically, Aggie and Inchy pressed back into the doorway and watched him turn away from them and plod off down the street.
She jabbed Inchy and he turned. ‘We ain’t got much time so listen and listen good. You’re to slip in to the kitchen and find the pot that’s got that Paddy muck they eat for breakfast and put this’ – she pulled out a small green glass bottle and shoved it in his hand – ‘in, then stir it around.’
‘What is it?’
‘Never you mind.’
‘It ain’t going to do ’em in, is it?’ Inchy asked, turning the vial over in his hand.
‘Course not, it’s just something to send them to the privy, that’s all. But if you get it on your fingers don’t lick it off.’
‘I thought you said—’
‘Get a move on.’ Aggie shoved him out of the doorway.
Inchy slipped the bottle into his pocket and crept silently across the road.
Aggie watched the boy disappear down the side of the house and a satisfied smile crept across her lips. By this time tomorrow Kate Ellis would be in no position to sling anyone out of her shitty little shop because her and her brats would be lying on a slab in London Hospital’s morgue.
Kate yawned and smoothed the hair from her eyes. Although the clock across the road said a quarter to seven she’d already been up for an hour. It took that long to light the stove, set the water to boil and collect the eggs from the chickens in the yard. Added to which it was Thursday and she had the midweek grocery deliveries arriving.
The smell of bacon, toast and fresh coffee already floated in the air as Sally served up the first few breakfasts. Something thumped on the floor above.
‘Your Joe’s up then,’ Sally said, flipping over a slice of bread sizzling in the frying pan.
Kate looked up and smiled. She reached for the small saucepan with the family breakfast in and pulled it onto the heat. The working men she catered for turned their noses up at oats, preferring a plate of eggs and sausages, but as porridge had been Kate’s first meal of the day since as long as she could remember, she made a small pot of it for herself and the children each morning.
The edges started to bubble so Kate stirred it to stop it sticking to the sides. A faint bitter smell drifted up but it vanished before she could identify it. She lifted the spoon to her lips and swallowed a little.
It was slightly tart so she reached for the sugar jar, stirred in two large tablespoons and then replaced the lid.
‘I’m just going to sort the children out for school. I’ll be back as soon as I can,’ Kate said, wiping her hands on the tea towel.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll manage and Bette will be here soon,’ Sally replied.
Kate filled her small teapot from the kettle then carried it and a jug of milk back into her small parlour. Ella was already sitting at the table fully dressed with her books beside her.
‘Morning, sweetheart,’ Kate said, setting the teapot and jug down on the table. ‘Did you sleep—’
The floor shifted and Kate grabbed the nearest chair to steady herself.
Ella jumped up and put her arm around her. ‘Are you all right, Ma?’ she asked, looking uneasily at her.
‘I’m fine,’ Kate replied, as the room stopped spinning. ‘I’ve just been rushing around. Now give Joe a call.’
Ella gave her another anxious look and then went to the bottom of the stairs. A dull pain started in Kate’s head. She took a deep breath to clear it.
‘Joe, Ma says to get yourself down here,’ Ella called, her voice echoing in Kate’s ears.
Joe thumped down the stairs, still struggling into his school jacket.
Kate pulled herself together. ‘About time too, young man.’
‘Sorry, Ma,’ Joe said, as he took his place opposite his sister.
‘All right,’ Kate said. ‘Now button your shirt properly while I fetch our breakfast.’
She went back into the kitchen.
‘You look very pale, Mrs E,’ Sally said, looking her over. ‘Are you sure you’re all the ticket?’
‘I don’t feel all that good,’ Kate replied. ‘But I’m sure once I’ve got breakfast down me I’ll perk up.’
She stirred the porridge again then, wrapping a tea towel around her hand, picked the saucepan up and carried it through to the children.
‘Here we are, something to stick to your ribs until dinner time,’ Kate said.
The children giggled and picked their spoons up in readiness.
Kate’s vision wavered and she lurched forward.
‘Ma!’ shouted Ella from what seemed like a long way away.
Blackness swirled around and a wave of nausea swept over her. The pot slipped from her hand and clattered onto the floor. Kate forced herself upright and, clutching onto the furniture and walls, staggered into the backyard. Without warning, her stomach turned, and she vomited. She put her hand out against the wall to steady herself as she retched up the contents of her stomach onto the flagstones.
She felt her knees buckle and she tried to stay upright but she must have passed out because she opened her eyes to find herself lying on the floor with Sally waving smelling salts under her nose. She coughed.
‘Take a couple of breaths to clear your head,’ Sally said, helping her to sit up.
Kate did and felt a tad better.
Ella and Joe crowded around her. Ella hugged Kate tightly around the neck and Joe leant against her with his thumb in his mouth.
‘There, I said she’d be all right,’ Sally said. ‘Now let’s get you in.’
She helped Kate to her feet and steered her along the passage and into the parlour.
‘You sit there and I’ll see to these two,’ Sally said as she lowered Kate into the armchair. ‘And don’t you try and clear that up.’ She indicated the porridge sitting in a congealed mass on the rug with the saucepan on top. ‘I’ll see to that when Bette gets in.’
‘Thank you,’ Kate said weakly, resting her head back.
Sally smoothed a stray lock out of Ella’s eyes. ‘Now you and Joe come with me and I’ll do you a proper fry-up.’
Joe’s eyes lit up but Ella lingered alongside Kate’s chair. She gave her daughter a hug. ‘I’m fine now. You go with Sally and then get off to school.’
‘Yes, Ma.’ Ella gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and then went into the shop.
Sally came back carrying a mug. ‘Here, get that down you,’ she said, handing it to Kate. ‘It’s baking powder and it’ll settle your stomach.’
‘Thank you,’ Kate said, taking a sip.
‘Now you put your feet up for a minute of two and I’ll sort out the shop,’ Sally said, and then she left.
Kate let her head fall back and closed her eyes. She must have drifted off to sleep because Sally’s return made her start.
‘You feeling better?’ she asked as she closed the door to the shop behind her.
‘Yes. What’s the time?’
‘Half past eleven.’
Kate sat up. ‘What? The dinner bells ring in half an hour.’
Sally placed her hand on Kate’s shoulder and pushed her back gently. ‘And Bette and
me can sort it out. You’ve had a nasty turn.’
‘I’ve never felt so sick even when I was breeding,’ Kate replied. ‘I must have eaten something yesterday that didn’t agree with me.’
‘Maybe so, but if you ask me, it was that ’orrible pong from the river the other day – it’s given lots of people the heaves.’
‘Perhaps you’re right,’ Kate replied. ‘I do feel very dizzy.’
‘Well, better out than in, as my old mum used to say.’ Sally looked her over. ‘Your colour’s come back, so do you want me to bring you a cup of weak tea?’
‘Please.’
Sally went into the shop. Kate relaxed again. Maybe it was the smell from the river. After all, the children, Sally and Bette, and at least fifty men a day ate what she had the day before and they were still on their feet.
The clerk led Jonathan up the polished staircase and knocked quietly on the half-glazed door at the top.
‘Come,’ came the muffled reply. The young man turned the brass handle and ushered Jonathan in.
The lawyer’s office was very much as Jonathan expected it to be, lined with shelves, stuffed with books and smelling musty from old paper. The busy hum of legal chatter drifted up from the floor below.
‘Captain Quinn for you, Mr Gillespie,’ the clerk said and then withdrew.
The solicitor looked over his half-rimmed glasses.
‘It’s good to meet you at last, Captain Quinn. I wish it were under happier circumstances.’ Mr Gillespie tottered out from behind his desk to greet him.
Jonathan gripped the offered hand. ‘Indeed. I didn’t know Mrs Benson for very long but I greatly miss her.’
‘As does everyone. Please.’ Mr Gillespie indicated the leather-upholstered chair in front of the desk.
Jonathan sat down and crossed his legs.
‘It’s good of you to come at such short notice,’ Mr Gillespie said, resuming his seat.
‘Not at all, but I must confess I was a little surprised by your letter. I thought Mrs Benson’s estate had already been settled.’
‘The majority has but Mrs Benson added in a late amendment, just a few days before she died. It concerns you and the school. Now, before I get to the main reason for this meeting I am instructed to give you this.’ Mr Gillespie handed Mrs Benson’s well-worn Bible to Jonathan. ‘And also this.’ He picked up a sealed letter.
Hold On to Hope Page 24