When Day is Done

  The spring weather seemed to make Kate restless and unhappy and intensify her feeling for Henry, no matter how much she told herself that he was in love with Agnes and she with him. The general unrest in the country and the city seemed to match her mood, and Mrs Molesworth warned her not to go into town on her day off. Religious riots had started and the charwoman warned that they would get worse.

  ‘You’d only have to be walking past to get battered by one side or the other, girl,’ she said. ‘Keep away from it all. Strike up into the country.’

  Kate took her advice and was glad that she did. It was a beautiful day and she took a tramcar part of the way. She was soon walking in the country lanes which lay near Old Swan. Birds sang from every tree and new growth was everywhere in the hawthorn hedges and the banks at the sides of the lanes.

  Numerous plants were in bud and there were even clumps of primroses in flower. Kate picked one, and as she wrapped it in her handkerchief she thought of the rose presented to her sister by the young gardener and the violets brought to Josie by one of her many admirers. How would it feel, she wondered wistfully, to be given a flower or to wander through this beauty with someone you loved?

  ‘“I have immortal longings in me”,’ she quoted to herself, and thought how hard it was that she should feel like this when she had no hope of ever satisfying her yearnings. She strolled on, absorbing the beauty around her and letting fancies fill her mind, dreams of rescuing Henry from mortal danger, or better still, being rescued by him and clasped in his manly arms while he breathed, ‘Oh Kate, how I’ve dreamed of this moment.’

  She spent several happy hours wandering and dreaming before having to return to reality. She felt guilty when she thought of Agnes Tate, but she told herself that no one knew of her dreams so they did nobody any harm. They had comforted her and made her feel happier, and Josie told her the fresh air had obviously done her good. ‘You look worlds better, Kate,’ she said.

  It was as well that Kate had had this happy day, because only a week or so later, Agnes Tate told her that she and Henry were going to become engaged on her birthday, which fell in three days’ time. ‘Things are a little easier at home for Henry,’ Agnes said, her eyes shining. ‘His brother Robert now shares the responsibility for his mother and sister.’

  Kate offered good wishes, and a little later, as she went downstairs and Henry came into the hall, she was able to hold out her hand to him and say brightly, ‘I’ve just heard your news, Mr Barnes. Congratulations.’

  His face lit up. ‘Good, good,’ he said. ‘Thank you, Kate. We wanted you to be the first to know because it was really you who brought us together. That argument with your aunt about your future, you know. That’s when Agnes spoke up for me and we got to know each other.’

  ‘I’m glad,’ Kate said. ‘I hope you’ll be very happy.’

  ‘I’m sure we will,’ he said. ‘She’s a delightful girl, isn’t she?’

  Kate smiled at his enthusiasm, but she said sincerely, ‘She is. I think you’re very well matched and I’m sure that you’ll be happy.’

  Henry was still holding her hand, and now he looked intently into her face and said, ‘But what about you, Kate? Are you happy?’

  ‘Yes, I am, Mr Barnes,’ she said bravely, although the bittersweet pain of his concern combined with the engagement made her feel that she was being torn apart.

  ‘You work so hard, Kate, too hard I think,’ he said, and she said breathlessly, ‘I like it. Congratulations again,’ and escaped.

  Not for the first time Kate wished that she could reach her room without going through the kitchen, but fortunately only Josie was there as she hurried through. She needed time to face the fact of the engagement, but she also wanted to think about Henry holding her hand and asking so anxiously if she was happy. He really cares about me, she told herself, but like a dash of cold water the thought followed, Yes, but he loves Miss Tate. She lay down on her bed, covering her face, and at first failed to hear the timid knock at the door. When it was repeated she stood up and composed herself before opening the door. Josie stood there.

  ‘Are you orlright, Kate?’ she asked. ‘I’ve been that worried. You looked that queer when you rushed through the kitchen and I couldn’t hear no noise from you.’ Her careful speech had deserted her, and seeing her concern Kate managed to force a smile.

  ‘I’m all right, Josie,’ she said. ‘I had a dizzy spell on the stairs and it gave me a fright, that’s all.’

  Josie gave a sigh of relief. ‘Thank goodness. You give me a fright, the white face on you. Lay down again. I’ll tell the missus.’

  ‘No, no, don’t,’ Kate said quickly. ‘I’m all right now. Don’t say anything to anybody, Josie,’ and Josie promised.

  Kate sluiced her face with cold water and tidied her hair, and somehow she got though the preparations for the meal without betraying to Mildred that anything was wrong. After the meal Mildred departed for the Mission, while Kate and Josie washed up the dishes, tidied the kitchen and prepared the dining room for the following morning.

  By the time the chores were done, Mildred had returned and it was time to prepare the evening cocoa. Josie had glanced at Kate anxiously several times but had been unusually quiet and subdued.

  At last Kate was free to retreat into her bedroom and be alone to think. She realised how tenacious that little spark of hope had been that Henry might one day turn to her. Now she must face the fact that it could never be and try to be satisfied that he liked her and cared about her happiness. If he only knew how much that depended on him! she thought ruefully.

  With courage Kate decided that her dreams now belonged in the past and she must firmly put them away and brace herself for the formal announcement of the engagement. She knew it would need all her fortitude to keep a smiling face.

  The next day Mrs Molesworth said quietly to her, ‘Is there an engagement coming up, girl?’

  Kate was amazed. ‘How did you know?’ she asked. ‘Miss Tate told me last night but I thought no one else knew.’

  ‘I was only guessing, girl,’ Mrs Molesworth said quickly. ‘I asked you ‘cos I knew you’d know if anyone did. Someone saw them looking in Brown’s window at the engagement rings. I haven’t said nothing to Josie.’

  ‘Then don’t, please, Mrs M.,’ Kate said. ‘They want to make the announcement after they’ve been home at the weekend.’

  ‘Josie’s been talking about you and him but it wouldn’t have worked, girl. He’d be all right, but wharrabout other people?’

  Kate remembered the bazaar but said nothing.

  The engagement was announced when all the guests were gathered in the parlour on Sunday night, and champagne was produced for a toast.

  The young couple were deliberately vague about their plans, but Agnes Tate had told Kate that they planned a two-year engagement. A strange friendship had grown between Agnes and Kate. The lessons had been discontinued long ago, but Agnes had taken Kate to join the Carnegie Library, and on the pretext of guiding Kate’s choice of books sometimes invited her to her room.

  Adroit questioning by Agnes and willing revelations by Kate about her family had established in Agnes’s view the class to which Kate and Mildred really belonged. Misfortune had fallen on Mildred and through her on Kate, Agnes believed, so she had no hesitation in befriending the quiet young girl who spoke good English and loved books, and in confiding in her.

  Agnes needed a friend to confide in. She longed to talk about Henry and their plans for the future, but Dorothy Norton had been so incompatible and Mrs Bradley seemed too old. Kate was the perfect listener, never tired of conversation about Henry.

  ‘I’ve finished replacing my parents’ savings which they spent on my education, and Henry’s brother coming home has made such a difference. We are really going to save hard during the next two years, because of course I’ll have to leave my post when we marry,’ she told Kate. ‘We’re not talking about our plans here because they may have to be changed, but I know you’ll b
e discreet, Kate.’

  ‘Of course,’ Kate said.

  It was bittersweet to her to hear these confidences. Although she had told herself firmly that she had stopped dreaming dreams about Henry, she was still interested in his well-being and happiness. The conversation was not all about Henry, however. Agnes was too well bred for that, so they talked about books they were reading or which had been reviewed, and Agnes asked if Kate had seen Rose.

  ‘Not for over three months,’ Kate said. ‘We don’t write to each other because Rose says the aunts would want to see the letters, but I’m longing to see her.’

  ‘That’s a longer time than usual between visits, isn’t it?’ Agnes asked.

  ‘Yes, but there’s been so much on at the Mission,’ said Kate. ‘Aunt Mildred has been very involved there on Sundays with visiting missionaries. We’re going next Sunday, though, and I’m really looking forward to seeing Rose again.’

  Unknown to Kate, a crisis was in progress at Greenfields. Rose, who was now seventeen, had continued to do well at all academic subjects, and with little competition she was consistently top in every class.

  Combined with praise from Miss Tasker, this had convinced her that she was outstandingly clever, and she had decided that she wanted to be a doctor.

  Miss Tasker encouraged the plan and told Rose that she must discuss it with her aunt. ‘There are scholarships, but they are very few and difficult to obtain,’ she said. ‘I’m sure your aunt will be happy to pay the fees.’

  Rose confidently broached the subject to Beattie after outlining how unusually clever a girl had to be to be given this chance, but Beattie promptly threw a fit of hysterics. Rose was banished and Essy summoned to minister to her mistress, and afterwards any mention of the subject brought on a fit of weeping by Beattie and declarations that Rose was a wicked, ungrateful girl who was ruining her aunt’s health.

  Rose knew that the battle was lost. Although she wept and tried to make Beattie change her mind, where her own wishes were concerned, Beattie was inflexible. Even when Miss Tasker called to try to persuade her, it made no difference.

  ‘Rose has such a good brain, Mrs Anderson,’ the headmistress said. ‘Even if you dislike the idea of her becoming a doctor, her talents should be used for another profession. She could make you very proud of her.’

  ‘I’ll be very proud of her if she is a dutiful niece, Miss Tasker,’ Beattie said stiffly. ‘Rose knows how much I’ve done for her. I wouldn’t have let her remain at your school if I’d known she would be taught to be ungrateful.’ She lay back in her chair, gasping for breath and ringing a handbell for Essy to bring her smelling salts, and the interview was quickly terminated.

  When Mildred and Kate arrived on Sunday, Rose immediately bore Kate off into the garden, while in the drawing room Beattie poured out her troubles to her sister. She got little sympathy from Mildred, who told her that she had spoiled the girl from the beginning and made a rod for her own back. Rose, however, found a more sympathetic listener in Kate, at least to begin with.

  They sat together on a garden seat with Kate’s arms around her sister while Rose raged and wept at the injustice of her life. ‘She doesn’t give a damn about me or what I want. It’s all about what suits her. I’m not allowed to be a person with my own hopes and plans. I’m just a toy for her to dress and play with. That woman was right – I can’t remember her name – when she said they only wanted me for a doll and you for a skivvy.’

  ‘Mrs Holland,’ Kate murmured, and held her sister close. ‘Never mind, love,’ she soothed. ‘It’s a shame when you are so clever, but don’t give up hope. Aunt Beattie may change her mind.’

  ‘Not her,’ Rose said bitterly. ‘She’s stupid and obstinate and selfish to the bone.’

  ‘But she loves you, Rose,’ Kate protested. ‘She’d give you anything you wanted.’

  ‘Except freedom!’ Rose said dramatically. ‘I’ve said it before. She gave you money, Kate – probably to spite Aunt Mildred – but she’s never given me any. Oh, she’ll buy me anything I want but money might mean independence, and that’s not in the plan.’

  ‘Which plan?’ Kate asked, looking puzzled.

  ‘Her plan for me. No doubt Mildred has one all worked out for you as well,’ said Rose.

  ‘I don’t think so—’ Kate began, but Rose swept on.

  ‘I haven’t been able to sleep and I’ve been thinking of the last time you came, when we talked about Mama. Why did they suddenly arrive when she died? They never came when she was ill, but they knew she had two daughters. Beattie wanted a daughter as a doll to dress and play with, and Mildred wanted a skivvy, and there we were, ready-made. They didn’t take us for our sakes, Kate. They took us for their own and we owe them nothing – nothing.’

  For a moment Kate was too taken aback to speak, then she said quietly, ‘But Rose, I don’t think we’d have been allowed to stay on our own, and Aunt Mildred said the alternative was the workhouse or an orphanage. Josie’s told me about the orphanage. We wouldn’t have liked it, Rose.’

  ‘I don’t care. By now I’d be free,’ Rose said. ‘Better than being in a cage here.’

  ‘You wouldn’t say that if you heard Josie talk,’ said Kate. ‘You’re probably right about when Mama died, but Aunt Beattie’s been good to you. This is the first time she’s refused you anything. Can’t you make the best of it and do something else?’

  ‘You’re on her side, too,’ Rose said, pulling away from Kate and weeping even more bitterly.

  ‘No, I’m not. I’m worried about you,’ Kate protested. ‘You’re making things worse for yourself working yourself up about old troubles.’

  ‘But I want to do something with my life, Kate, not spend it picking up stitches, changing her library books and generally dancing attendance on her. I could be a good doctor, I know I could.’

  Kate thought for a moment. ‘Could you help at the Dispensary?’ she suggested. ‘Aunt would allow that, surely, and it would be useful training for you. Might make Aunt Beattie change her mind too.’

  ‘The Dispensary!’ Rose exclaimed, turning to stare at Kate. ‘Children with boils and scabies and men with dirty wounds. No thank you, Kate.’

  ‘I thought if you really wanted to be a doctor it would be the next best thing,’ Kate said indignantly. ‘What do you think you’d see if you were a doctor?’

  Rose had the grace to blush. ‘Well, perhaps not a doctor. I just want to be somebody, Kate. I’ll have to leave school soon and I don’t know how I’ll bear being at home all the time. The days are so long and empty and I won’t be able to use my brain at all.’

  Kate was silent. She felt desperately sorry for her sister, but whatever she said seemed to make things worse. Rose stood up and walked about the grass and Kate watched her. Why couldn’t she be happy? She had so much and she had been blessed with every gift, including beauty. Her gently rounded figure was shown to perfection by the well-fitting dress of rich material elaborately tucked and embroidered, and the colour of it exactly matched her blue eyes. A ribbon of the same shade held back her glossy fair curls.

  Kate thought of her own appearance as glimpsed in the large mirror in the hall. She had put her hair up on her eighteenth birthday but it was still straight and mousy, and wisps of it escaped from her bun and hung round her face. She was thin and gawky with an undeveloped figure, and the steel-rimmed spectacles she now wore hid her eyes, her only good feature. Her plain and serviceable clothes did nothing to improve her.

  Why? she thought angrily. Why had Rose been given every gift – beauty and charm and cleverness – and she had been given nothing? Poor plain Jane, Mama had called her, and said the good fairy was absent at her birth.

  Rose was still pacing about the grass dabbing at her eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief. Weeping had not reddened her large blue eyes or spoiled her perfect complexion, and there was a gloss about her which Kate felt could only have come from years of care, of the best of food and luxurious living. Only the discontented d
roop of her full red lips marred her beauty, and suddenly Kate lost patience.

  ‘I think you’ve got a lot to be thankful for, Rose,’ she said crisply. ‘You can’t have everything, and after all, here you can at least be miserable in comfort.’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ Rose cried, bursting into tears again.

  Kate, instantly remorseful, flung her arms around her. ‘I do, love,’ she said. ‘But you’re so beautiful, you’re bound to meet someone to marry, then all the years of training would be wasted.’ Rose said nothing, and Kate, suddenly weary, said, ‘I know it’s hard to give up your dreams, but you’re not the only one who’s had to do that. Henry Barnes is engaged to Miss Tate.’

  Her eyes filled with tears and she hoped for some words of comfort from Rose, but her sister only said indifferently, ‘Oh, is he? We’d better go in now,’ and led the way into the house.

  Kate followed her, thinking that Beattie was not the only selfish person under that roof. She felt that she would be glad to leave Greenfields and return to the cheerful company of Josie and Mrs Molesworth. At least they never felt sorry for themselves, although their lives were so hard. As Mrs Molesworth said, ‘We can’t do nothing about it so we may as well make the best of it,’ and Kate thought she was very wise.

  Mildred and Kate had scarcely left the house when Mildred said crossly, ‘I knew there’d be trouble with that girl. Beattie’s spoiled her and made a rod for her own back, and so I told her. A few weeks in her room on bread and water would be the best cure for her.’ Kate said nothing.

  Rose made wild plans to run away and earn her own living, but she was intelligent enough to realise that they were unrealistic. She was too used to living in luxury to face hardship, and it would be impossible to find a respectable job without qualifications or a recommendation.

  She went weeping to Miss Tasker, but there was no help there.

  ‘You are dependent on your aunt, my dear, and I can’t encourage you to defy her,’ said the headmistress. ‘You will just have to accept your lot. After all, many people would consider you fortunate.’