When Day is Done

by When Day is Done (retail) (epub

  Ben wrote poetry too, and the following night he gave a poem to Rose praising her eyes, ‘Brighter than the stars above’, and saying that her beauty was ‘more potent than the goddesses of ancient myth’.

  As poetry it was poor quality but Rose was pleased and flattered. She was not in love with Ben, but she liked him and toyed with the idea of marrying him. Could this be the means of escape that Miss Tasker had hinted at? She was sure that married to Ben she could do just as she pleased, and he would be entirely malleable.

  She encouraged him by returning his kisses and pressing close to him, and Ben suddenly became possessive and masterful, objecting when Rose fluttered her eyelashes at ship’s officers or talked to other male passengers. Rose became alarmed. Would she be jumping out of the frying pan into the fire if she married Ben? she wondered. She wanted a husband who would be dominated by her and Ben was now showing another side to his character, different from the meek son and pliable lover he had been previously.

  With a technique which she would often use in the years to come, Rose withdrew gracefully without appearing to do so, and without giving offence to Ben or his mother.

  Ben was bewildered, but remained her friend, although they spent most of their free time during the day with a group of young people playing deck games. In the evening they joined the dancers, but Rose danced with others and gradually less and less with Ben. Instead of the tête-à-têtes on deck, they attended ship’s concerts with Beattie and Mrs Reynolds.

  Rose confided to Beattie that she felt that Ben was becoming too serious and thinking of marriage. ‘I don’t think he realises how young I am, Auntie,’ she said artlessly, and Beattie patted her hand approvingly.

  ‘You’re a sensible girl, Rose,’ she said. ‘You needn’t be thinking of that sort of thing for many years yet. You’ll have a good life with me, dear. You’re all I’ve got.’ She sighed sentimentally, but Rose had not missed her shrewd glance or her gratified smile.

  Later, Rose walked along a deserted corner of the deck, thinking of the conversation. It might be a good life for some people, she thought, but not for me. It’s empty, empty and futile, and I hate it. I should be studying to make my mark in the world, not frittering my time like this.

  She beat her hands on the ship’s rail in frustration and anger, and an officer who was passing came to her side. ‘Is everything all right, Miss Drew?’ he asked, and Rose burst into tears and turned into his arms. Surprised and delighted, the young man held her close, saying belligerently, ‘Who’s upset you? Tell me. I’ll deal with them.’

  Rose withdrew and dabbed her eyes with a tiny handkerchief. ‘No one. It’s just life,’ she said dramatically. ‘I want to study – to be someone. I wanted to stay on at school and my headmistress thought I could become a doctor, but my aunt said it was unladylike. She made me leave.’

  ‘What a shame,’ the young man said indignantly. ‘You must have a good brain.’

  ‘I have,’ said Rose. ‘But what’s the use? I wish I was a man!’

  ‘Don’t wish that,’ the young officer exclaimed. ‘What a waste that would be when you’re so beautiful. Think of the pleasure you give just by looking as you do.’

  Rose was too angry and resentful even to notice the compliment, and she went on, ‘I can’t stand wasting my time like this, playing stupid games and dancing attendance on my aunt. I feel I can’t go on, but I’m trapped. I should have been more cunning, made myself unpleasant years ago so she’d have been glad to be rid of me before I got too used to the life.’

  Much of what she said was incomprehensible to the young man, and he attempted to draw her closer to comfort her, but Rose slipped neatly out of his grasp.

  With a sudden change of mood she laughed. ‘I’ve really got the miseries, haven’t I?’ she said. ‘Thank you for listening to my nonsense. I feel better now.’ She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek swiftly, then with a wave and a smile she sped quickly away, leaving the bemused young man staring after her adoringly.

  Some passengers left the ship at Trinidad, and others joined for the rest of the cruise, including two sisters, Miss Isabel Andrews and her widowed sister Mrs Cecilia Weston. Two passengers had left from Beattie’s table and the sisters replaced them and immediately became friendly with Beattie and Mrs Reynolds.

  Mrs Weston was the same type as themselves although not quite as lethargic, but Miss Andrews was very different. She was a tall, commanding woman, a born organiser, and before long she had taken control of Beattie and Mrs Reynolds as well as her sister, and had them walking round the deck every morning before breakfast. After their first protests, they found that they enjoyed the walk and felt better for it, and like all recent converts, they preached the advantages of fresh air and exercise to anyone who would listen.

  Miss Andrews also took control in other ways, and pillows, rugs and drinks appeared like magic as soon as she ordered them. She firmly took the ball of wool that Rose was winding for Beattie from her hands. ‘Go and play deck quoits,’ she ordered. ‘You’re too young and pretty to be sitting here winding wool. I’m neither, so I’ll do it.’ Beattie was afraid to protest.

  The sisters intended to winter in the South of France, and before the ship returned to Liverpool it was established that Beattie and Rose would accompany them. They said goodbye to Mrs Reynolds and Ben with many promises to write to each other and to meet again, but Beattie was sure that Mrs Reynolds would take care to keep her son well away from Rose.

  Ben had been downcast and miserable for the latter half of the cruise, and Beattie congratulated herself on Rose’s good sense. It might have been difficult to nip the affair in the bud if Rose had been as keen to continue it as Ben was, but Beattie was sure that although Rose promised to answer Ben’s letters, the correspondence would soon cease.

  She was equally certain that letters between herself and Mrs Reynolds would be few. Ben’s mother, although she was unwilling for her son to marry young, was affronted when she realised belatedly that it was Rose who had evidently broken off the affair, no matter how gently.

  Rose had learned her lesson, and although there were several eligible young men in Cannes who were attracted to her, she was careful not to become too involved with any of them. She felt that she was not yet ready for a lifetime commitment and could afford to take time to survey the field. Who knows? she thought. Aunt Beattie may even change her mind about letting me study when she sees the alternative is my leaving her to marry.

  They returned home in March, both happy to be back, for different reasons. Beattie settled back into having the household revolve round her and being pampered by Essy, and Rose looked forward to seeing Miss Tasker and Kate again.

  Rose had determined that before they settled back into the old pattern, she would lay out new structures for her days. She established early on that she would have some time to herself, and also more freedom to socialise with other young people. Beattie had been told by Miss Andrews that she would be wise to allow Rose more freedom, otherwise she might ‘kick over the traces’, as Miss Andrews put it, so she agreed. Pressing home her advantage, Rose even secured a small allowance for herself in addition to all the money Beattie spent on clothes for her.

  ‘She’s changed,’ Beattie said mournfully to Essy. ‘She’s not the loving little girl she used to be.’

  ‘You spoil her, madam,’ Essy declared instantly. ‘You’re too kind and she takes advantage of you.’

  Beattie was immediately on her dignity. ‘You forget yourself, Essy,’ she said. ‘Rose is my niece and I decide how she’s treated. She’s bound to change. She’s growing up and meeting other people, but she still puts me first.’

  Essy sniffed and said no more, but she looked at Rose with even more dislike and did anything she could to make life awkward for her. Rose ignored her, knowing that Essy was jealous but not allowing the fact to worry her. She still hoped for a change of heart from Beattie and used her free time to study in her bedroom, but she had moments of doubt, when she f
elt that it was a vain hope. She went to see Miss Tasker, but the headmistress had other clever girls whom she was now inspiring, and showed little interest in Rose.

  Rose envied Kate, who had written to her telling her how much happier she was now, with the extra help in the house and her new responsibilities. Lottie had proved a great success, always cheerful and willing, and amazed with everything about her new life. She was delighted with the food, her new clothes, her bed in the attic bedroom she shared with Josie, and most of all with the affection shown to her by Josie and Kate.

  Josie, too, was in a state of bliss. Shortly after Christmas she had taken a pair of Mildred’s shoes to a new cobbler’s to be soled and heeled, and after an hour’s absence came home to announce that she had fallen in love with one of the cobblers.

  ‘Davy Thomson his name is, and he’s lovely. He’s got copper-red curls and a lovely smile, and he walked me home. He’s coming for me tomorrow on my day off,’ she said.

  ‘But I thought you were meeting Stan from the butcher’s,’ Kate exclaimed.

  ‘I was,’ Josie said carelessly. ‘But I’ll send him a note to put him off. Oh Kate, I’m dying for you to see Davy.’

  ‘He must be well in at the cobbler’s’ said Mrs Molesworth. ‘To get an hour off this morning and tomorrow off as well.’

  ‘He works for his uncle, and he doesn’t mind if Davy takes time off as long as the work gets done. He’ll work late tonight,’ said Josie. ‘He lives with his mam in Baker Street off West Derby Road, and his dad’s dead. I’ve never felt like this about anyone before in me life. I know he’s the one for me.’

  ‘So it was love at first sight,’ Kate joked, but Josie said seriously, ‘Yes, it was, Kate, for both of us.’ Kate was astonished at how much Josie had managed to learn about the young man in such a short time, and at how sure she was of her feelings, but when Davy came for Josie the following day she could see why Josie was attracted to him.

  He was a tall, thin young man with a pleasant smile and a mop of red-gold curls as Josie had said, and he was gentle and protective with her. ‘I’ll take good care of her,’ he assured Kate and Mrs Molesworth, who had lingered to see the young man.

  When they had gone, with Josie hanging on Davy’s arm, smiling adoringly at him, Kate turned to Mrs Molesworth. ‘I’m sure this is the real thing for Josie,’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ve never seen her like this before. It’s always the lads who are mad about her and she doesn’t care about them. Isn’t he nice, Mrs Molesworth?’

  ‘Yes, he’s a nice lad,’ Mrs Molesworth said cautiously. ‘But she’ll have to be careful. He looks delicate, like, to me.’

  ‘He’s a bit stooped, but that’s probably from bending over a cobbler’s last,’ said Kate, but the charwoman shook her head. ‘No, I’m thinking more of them red spots on each cheek,’ she said. ‘That’s not natural, not with that white skin and red hair. Still, I could be wrong, so don’t say nothing, girl.’ Kate assured her that she would not say anything to spoil Josie’s pleasure and pride in Davy.

  It was unusual for Mrs Molesworth to linger at the guesthouse, as she now spent as much time as possible with her husband. She confided her worries about Charlie to Kate. ‘I can’t put me finger on it, but he doesn’t seem as well somehow,’ she said. ‘He says he’s fine, but there’s something,’ and when Billy came home he agreed with his mother.

  The doctor was called, but as Mrs Molesworth said to Kate, ‘We wasn’t no wiser when he went than when he come. He only said Charlie’d done well to have lasted this long after the accident, but he couldn’t tell us nothing about the way he is now.’

  ‘Was he able to go out with Billy?’ Kate asked, and Mrs Molesworth nodded. ‘Billy got the carridge again and we went to the park, but Charlie was asleep most of the time. Billy says—’ She hesitated, then muttered, ‘But it’s a daft idea. What do you want me to do first, queen?’

  Kate recognised that the subject was closed and said no more about it, but she grieved to see her old friend so worried. Her affection and respect for Mrs Molesworth had grown with the years, and she knew how much she had always relied on the charwoman’s shrewd good sense and advice. Mrs Molesworth had provided affection and guidance for Kate in the early days, when she was a lonely and frightened young orphan, and Kate longed to help her now, but there was little she could do.

  She set aside a portion of any tasty food that might tempt Charlie to eat, and arranged more time off for Mrs Molesworth without loss of pay, but otherwise she could only offer silent sympathy.

  Beattie wrote to Mildred, announcing their return and inviting her and Kate to tea the following Sunday, and Rose wrote to tell Kate how she longed to see her. ‘I don’t see why I should go,’ grumbled Mildred. ‘I’ve done my duty all these years but she went away for months without a thought for me.’

  Kate knew that Mildred would go, but she said nothing. The blow she had long expected had fallen, and Agnes and Henry had set the date for their wedding. ‘She’s set it,’ Mrs Molesworth said to Josie. ‘It’s her that’s making the running. He’s one of them fellows who lets himself be bossed because he’s too nice to say no and hurt her feelings. Mind you, it’s just as well. It’ll be better for Kate to have him outa the house.’

  Kate would not have agreed, and wondered how she would bear not seeing Henry every day. The wedding was set for August, and Agnes would leave her teaching post at the end of the school year in July. She told Kate that Henry’s sister had been ill again and wanted the wedding to be as soon as possible. She hoped to be well enough to be a bridesmaid.

  Kate would normally have been excited about the visit to Greenfields, but now she thought it would only take her mind off her misery for a short time. At Josie’s urging she wore her blue suit and hat with the white blouse and gloves, and Mildred looked smart in a black silk dress and carricule coat with a new large black hat. She needed new clothes for her changed lifestyle, and looked forward with grim satisfaction to surprising Beattie and Rose.

  There was a new minister at the Mission, with less austere views than his predecessor, and he had introduced social activities in which Mildred, a great admirer of the minister, joined. She often went out to tea with members of the sewing circle, who made hideous garments for ‘the heathen’, and had taken her turn entertaining the members one afternoon. Dodie, in a smart cap and apron, had served tea, and the ladies had been impressed. Mildred also still made her mysterious visits to town dressed in her best; Kate thought these were connected with her hint about a friend who advised her on investments.

  ‘You look lovely, Kate. Very stylish,’ Rose exclaimed when they arrived, and Beattie echoed, ‘Yes. Very stylish, my dear, and so do you, Mildred.’ Mildred said nothing, and Kate and Rose quickly escaped into the garden, where Rose poured out all the details of the cruise, their lengthy holiday and her many conquests.

  Kate was fascinated, but before she could tell Rose any of her own news, they were called for tea. Rose slipped her arm through Kate’s. ‘I haven’t stopped talking – haven’t let you get a word in,’ she said remorsefully. ‘But next time, Kate, I won’t say a word, I promise. I’ll just listen.’

  Kate laughed. ‘I enjoyed hearing all your adventures,’ she said. ‘Much more interesting than mine.’

  ‘Tell me quickly, though,’ Rose said as they entered the house. ‘What you said in your letters about being in charge. Is it working well?’

  ‘Yes perfectly,’ Kate said, ‘with extra help, and we all get on well. Aunt Mildred hardly ever interferes.’

  ‘And Mildred’s got what she always wanted,’ Rose said cynically. ‘Playing the lady owner but keeping control of the pursestrings while you do the work and she never has to soil her hands.’

  ‘Oh Rose,’ Kate protested, but she looked lovingly at her sister as they went into the drawing room. Rose had not changed from the affectionate little sister she had always been, she thought. Their last meeting had only gone wrong because Rose was so upset about leaving school.
<
br />   Beattie looked disgruntled, and as soon as they went in she said to Kate, ‘You must be a great help to your Aunt Mildred, Kate. Working so hard and taking so much responsibility that she’s able to have such a good social life.’

  Kate was surprised. Mildred never gave her any praise for her work, but only grumbled sometimes at the bills, so she said with a touch of sharpness, ‘I’m glad Aunt Mildred sees it like that. I was not aware of it.’

  ‘I’m not one to gush,’ Mildred said. ‘But you’d soon have heard about it if I wasn’t satisfied.’ Kate said no more. I can do without praise, she thought. What you never have you never miss.

  Beattie said no more either, but she still looked vexed. She had been as eager as Rose to talk about the cruise and her new friends, but Mildred had not been as attentive a listener as Kate with Rose. She had talked about the new minister and of the many activities she was involved in at the Mission, boasting about how important she was there, and Beattie had been unable to compete with her more forceful sister.

  She soon became more cheerful as Essy and Rose fussed about her, and Rose firmly took charge of the conversation, ensuring that Beattie was able to talk about the wonders of the cruise and how highly she was regarded by her new friends.

  It was raining when Kate and Mildred were ready to leave, and Mildred asked Essy to call a cab. As they drove home she said grimly to Rose, ‘If your Aunt Beattie can treat herself to a cruise, I think we are entitled to treat ourselves to a cab.’

  She’s jealous of Aunt Beattie, Kate realised with amazement. She had been so used to thinking of Mildred as a model of rectitude, living by her own bleak creed, that it was a shock to find that she had ordinary emotions and failings. She’s changed, thought Kate. Her aunt had always been generous with food and fuel as a means to an end, but so tight-fisted with other household bills and wages that Mrs Molesworth declared she would ‘skin a flea for its hide’. She had been as mean with herself too, but now she spent money on clothes and entertaining. I don’t know what’s changed her, but if it means riding in a cab instead of walking home in the rain, I’m all for it, Kate decided.