When Day is Done

by When Day is Done (retail) (epub

  ‘Leave it with me,’ Mildred muttered, ‘and leave me to rest.’ She closed her eyes in dismissal.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Kate told Lottie. ‘I know it’s not fair to you to leave you with the responsibility for Mrs Bradley and all the work, but I’ve got to be the one to queue. The shopkeepers know me and keep things for me. Aunt Mildred should help us but I can’t get any sense out of her. Between the two of them I’m nearly out of my mind myself.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Lottie said. ‘If I’m cleaning upstairs I keep an eye on the old lady, and when I have to go down to the kitchen I lock her door so she can’t wander round.’

  ‘Oh Lottie, what would I do without you?’ Kate said fervently. ‘But I’m determined to get an address from Aunt Mildred, even if it’s only Mrs Bradley’s solicitor. We can’t be responsible for her the way she is. She could harm herself and I’d be to blame because I didn’t get help for her.’

  Kate was puzzled by Mildred’s behaviour. Since her stroke she rarely went to the Mission and spent nearly all her time in her rooms, taking no part in the household. Sometimes Kate wondered whether her aunt’s mind had been affected by the stroke. She had always been so proud of having all her rooms full, and so discriminating in her choice of guests, but Mrs Burroughs and Miss Andrews were coarse and vulgar women who would not have been tolerated previously.

  The only other new guest was a Mr Culshaw, a quiet young man who had been discharged from the Army after an accident with a gun carriage. One of his legs was shorter than the other and he walked with the aid of a stick. He worked in a shipping office. Mildred made no apparent attempt to find guests for the remaining two rooms. Kate was not sorry, as food was becoming ever more scarce, but she did worry about her aunt’s state of mind.

  Mildred had refused to visit Greenfields, saying that Beattie was too inquisitive, but Kate paid a brief visit there. She found Rose voluble about her own troubles. She had finally decided to enrol as a VAD, but Beattie had promptly had a heart attack. Rose’s application was rejected and she was convinced that it was because Beattie had pulled strings, yet something in her manner made Kate suspect that this actually suited her sister.

  The only bright spot in Kate’s life now was the cheerful letters she received from Nell, who was now nursing in London. She had left the library at the outbreak of war and loved the nursing life. Her lively, humorous letters, copiously illustrated, were eagerly welcomed by Kate.

  In addition to her worries about the household and her constant fear for Henry, Kate was also worried about Josie. She had suffered a miscarriage five months into her second pregnancy, and Davy had also been frequently ill and unable to work. Kate had been alarmed by the sound of his coughing when she visited Josie.

  ‘The fog gets on his chest,’ Josie said. ‘The neighbours are going to bring his bed down here for me because the doctor said he should be in the one heat all the time, and them bedrooms are icy.’

  The next time Kate visited, the bed was downstairs in the tiny kitchen/living room and Davy was sitting up in it, his eyes feverishly bright and a hectic flush on his hollow cheeks. ‘It’s done me the world of good being down here,’ he told Kate. ‘Josie’s the best nurse in the world. I’ll soon be back at work now.’

  In the mirror above the mantelpiece, Kate caught a reflection of Josie’s unguarded expression, and realised that her friend knew what was very clear to Kate, that Davy would never work again. The next moment, however, Josie said cheerfully, ‘The doctor’s made up with you, isn’t he, Dave? He says the warmth and the company was all Davy needed.’

  ‘That’s good,’ Kate said, wondering how Josie could manage to appear so cheerful. ‘It’s a lovely warm room. I suppose you have plenty of visitors.’

  ‘Yes, the neighbours are in and out all the time,’ said Josie. ‘And Dave’s uncle has been so good to us. He calls in nearly every day, and never empty-handed.’ She picked up the basket covered with a white cloth that Kate had put down unobtrusively. ‘And now you’ve brought us all this lovely food too. Eh, we’re living like lords these days, aren’t we, lad?’ she said.

  Davy nodded, but the action brought on a fit of coughing which was dreadful to hear. Josie went swiftly to the bed and, shielding him with her body so that Kate could not see what was happening, attended to him. Afterwards he lay back on the pillows, white and trembling. Kate wondered whether she should go or whether she could do anything to help, but Josie returned to sit beside her on the sofa.

  ‘All right now,’ she said cheerfully. ‘Better up than down, as Mrs Molesworth would say.’

  After a moment Davy managed to smile at Kate. ‘Thank you for the food. Josie often tells me about your cooking and the lovely meals she had at the guesthouse. Very different to the orphanage,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, and Davy’s felt the benefit,’ Josie said, ‘because you learned me to cook. He never had good meals when he was at home.’

  ‘My ma couldn’t boil water without burning it,’ Davy said, and they laughed together. Kate was amazed at their courage and resilience and thought that meant that they truly loved each other. Oh God, let him get better, she prayed wordlessly. Josie deserves to be happy.

  Josie had found an envelope of money in the basket. ‘Hey, what’s this, Kate?’ she said, and Kate said briefly, ‘Wages.’

  ‘But I haven’t earned any wages,’ Josie protested.

  Kate laughed. ‘It’s what they call a retainer,’ she said. ‘In case you decide to leave us and take your fancy cookery elsewhere.’

  When she left a little later Davy was sitting up in bed again and they were all laughing, and afterwards she was thankful that this was her last memory of Davy and Josie together.

  A few days later Davy had a massive haemorrhage and died in Josie’s arms. Kate went to the house as soon as she could and found that already the bed and other furniture had been moved from the tiny room and Davy’s coffin lay on trestles under the window, with candles burning at the head and the foot. His thin hands were folded on his breast and he looked young and vulnerable with his copper-coloured curls clustering round his brow. Josie was dry-eyed and quiet, but she wept when Kate held her in her arms.

  ‘Mrs Molesworth was right,’ she said. ‘You know she said right away Davy was delicate and I’d have to look after him. Well, I did, Kate, but it was too late.’

  ‘But you’ve had these few years anyway,’ Kate said soothingly.

  Josie dried her eyes. ‘Yes, and they were good years,’ she said. ‘We were so happy. If only one of the babies had lived.’

  ‘I know, Josie, but perhaps it was meant to be,’ Kate comforted her. ‘You were able to devote all your time to Davy.’

  There was a noise at the front door, and a small woman with a ferocious expression erupted into the room. She was carrying a wooden stool, and as the girls watched in amazement she took scissors wrapped in tissue paper from her apron pocket, stood on the stool and leaned into the coffin.

  She looked at Davy for a moment, then snipped off one of his bright curls and wrapped it in the tissue paper. Then, still without a word or a look at Josie, she picked up the stool and left the house.

  Kate stared at Josie. ‘Who?’ she began, and Josie said briefly, ‘Davy’s mum,’ then began to tremble. Kate put her arms round her and Josie wept, ‘At a time like this. She hates me so much she wouldn’t use anything belonging to me. Her own stool and scissors, even the tissue paper.’

  Kate could only hold her, making soothing noises. She was stunned by the suddenness of the incident and found it hard to believe it had happened. ‘Sit down, Josie,’ she said. ‘I’ll make you a cup of tea. She’s not worth upsetting yourself about.’

  There was a tap at the door and Josie’s neighbour came in. ‘I seen Davy’s ma coming here, and the gob on her, so I was coming in to you, girl, but before I got the pan off the fire she was out again. Are you all right? I thought she might hit you with the stool.’

  ‘She never even looked at me,’ Josie said bitterly
. ‘Just stood on her own stool and used her own scissors to cut a lock of his hair. She wouldn’t use nothing belonging to me.’

  ‘Bitter old cow,’ the neighbour said indignantly. ‘Never mind, girl. She might have took a lock of his hair but she had to go away and leave Davy with you, and he’ll always be with you. Just put her outa your head.’

  ‘I shouldn’t have told her,’ Josie said when the woman had left. ‘Now it’ll be all over the street.’

  ‘Why worry?’ Kate said. ‘It’s nothing for you to be ashamed of.’

  ‘No, but it shames Davy to have a mother like that,’ said Josie.

  ‘I don’t see why,’ said Kate. ‘We can’t choose our parents. It only shows how much he loved you to defy a woman like that.’

  ‘I don’t even know mine. They might have been just as bad,’ Josie said. She smiled suddenly. ‘I was talking about that to Davy, about being a foundling, and he said, “I wish I was. I couldn’t have done no worse than my ma.” We had a good laugh and I’ve never worried about being a foundling since then.’

  ‘I know it doesn’t seem much comfort now, Josie, but those happy memories will help you later on,’ Kate said gently, but Josie said nothing.

  Kate returned home to find Lottie in tears in the kitchen and Mildred furiously ringing her bell. ‘You’ve got to go to the missus right away,’ Lottie wept. ‘Oh Kate, it’s been terrible. There’s been a fight.’

  ‘A fight?’ Kate echoed, but before Lottie could say any more Mildred appeared at the top of the basement stairs. ‘Where have you been?’ she demanded angrily. ‘You’re never here when you’re needed. Why do you think I’ve kept you all these years?’

  Kate stormed up the basement steps. ‘If you say that to me again, Aunt, I’ll tell you exactly why,’ she said furiously. ‘As for where I’ve been, I’ve been to see Josie. Her husband has died, remember?’ Mildred swiftly changed tack. ‘I need you here, Kate,’ she said pathetically. ‘My health won’t stand these upsets and that girl is useless in an emergency.’ She placed her hand over her heart and tottered back to her room, saying, ‘Deal with it, Kate. I can’t be upset like this.’

  Kate started to follow her, but turned instead and went down to Lottie. ‘Dry your eyes, Lottie, and tell me what happened,’ she said, sitting down at the kitchen table.

  ‘It was Mrs Bradley,’ Lottie said. ‘I was brushing the stairs and I thought I could keep an eye on her, but she managed to slip out of her room and into Miss Andrews’. I don’t know what she was doing but them two women came back and there was uproar. I’m sure they was drunk, Kate.’

  ‘Good God,’ Kate said faintly. ‘What happened then?’

  ‘They was screaming and saying Mrs Bradley was robbing them, and then Mrs Burroughs pushed the old lady against the banister. I run upstairs but I couldn’t do nothing, and I knocked for the missus but at first she wouldn’t come outa her room, then when she did it made it worse. Mrs Bradley just turned round and said, “There you are, Mrs Williams. Dismiss these women at once. I will not have dishonesty,” and they started screaming worse than ever. I had to hold that Mrs Burroughs back.’

  ‘Where are they now – and where’s Mrs Bradley?’ asked Kate. ‘She’s up in her room singing hymns as though nothing has happened,’ Lottie said. ‘And them two have gone out again but they locked their doors and said they’d get the coppers if it happened again.’ Kate put her hands over her face, and Lottie, trying to comfort her, said, ‘Don’t worry, Kate. They’d never go near the coppers. There’s something fishy about them or I’m a Dutchman.’

  ‘I’ll have to go up and see Mrs Bradley,’ Kate said. ‘At least she recognised my aunt. That might be a good sign.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Lottie said doubtfully, pushing a cup of tea towards Kate. ‘Drink that before you go anyhow.’

  Kate found Mrs Bradley sitting peacefully by her fire reading a Mission magazine. She began to talk rationally to Kate about the Missions and about her childhood. ‘Mother encouraged me to save my pennies for black babies and I thought if I saved enough one would come to live with us,’ she said. ‘So easy for children to misunderstand, but Mother was training me to think of others.’

  ‘Your mother was very wise,’ Kate murmured. Mrs Bradley agreed and told several anecdotes about her childhood, and Kate, reassured, told Lottie that she thought the scene with the women had jolted the old lady back to reality. Her peace of mind was short-lived, however.

  Later, in her bedroom, Kate had as usual quickly scanned the casualty lists in the Liverpool Echo, fearing to see Henry’s name, but it was not there. She had then taken his card from her box and held it while she prayed for his safety before falling asleep.

  She felt that she had only been asleep a few minutes when she was awakened by Mrs Bradley standing beside her bed in her nightdress. She was holding a candle and asking for Kate’s help to deal with a witch doctor. ‘You’ve had a bad dream, Mrs Bradley,’ Kate said, trying to take the old lady’s arm, but Mrs Bradley pulled away from her.

  ‘Come, Derek, you must help me,’ she said firmly. ‘Mama always told us to help others, and Papa said you must be the man of the family.’ Kate decided to humour her. She slipped a coat over her own nightdress and whispered, ‘Come, I’ll show you the best way.’ Mrs Bradley allowed her to take her hand and lead her back to her room. Once there she handed Kate the candle and allowed herself to be tucked up in bed without protest. She fell asleep within minutes, and Kate crept away, taking the precaution of locking the door behind her.

  In spite of her disturbed night, she woke early and went up to unlock Mrs Bradley’s door before she realised that she had been locked in. The key turned smoothly and she went quietly downstairs. She had just reached the hall when she heard a slight noise and looking up the stairs saw a man in uniform creeping down, closely followed by another. They were both carrying their boots.

  As she stood transfixed, the men reached the hall. They all stared at each other open-mouthed, then the men turned and bolted through the front door. Kate stood there unable to believe her eyes.

  She came to and rushed to her aunt’s room, knowing that Mildred would be up and dressed. She blurted out the tale of the two men, adding, ‘They must have been with those women and Lottie said they were drunk yesterday. They’ve got to go, Aunt, and you’ll have to tell them. I’ll come with you but you’ll have to tell them. They’ll take notice of you.’

  Mildred showed no surprise, and Kate wondered whether she had heard noises on other occasions and ignored them. From her rooms at the end of the hall she would hear more than Lottie in her attic or Kate in her basement bedroom. Kate’s suspicions were confirmed when Mildred said plaintively, ‘We need their money, Kate. I can’t get guests like I used to with this dreadful war.’

  ‘We’ll have no chance of respectable people if this becomes known as an immoral house, Aunt,’ Kate said firmly. ‘Come along. It must be done at once.’

  The women blustered but, intimidated by Mildred’s icy manner, agreed to go, only asking for a day to make arrangements. ‘We’ve paid up to Saturday anyhow,’ Mrs Burroughs said, then retreated behind her friend.

  The following day two seedy-looking men arrived with a handcart, and Kate supervised the move to see that nothing belonging to the guesthouse was taken. The women started to shout abuse as they left, calling Kate a narrow-minded old maid and a bloodsucker, but when Mildred emerged from her room they slunk quickly away.

  Kate and Lottie surveyed the empty rooms. ‘They’ve done as much damage as they could,’ Lottie said indignantly. ‘Everything chipped or broken, even the mirrors. Well, that’s seven years’ bad luck for them and I hope they get it.’

  ‘I don’t care,’ Kate said. ‘I’m just so glad to see them go. We’ve got plenty of furniture. It’s guests we’re short of now.’

  Davy’s funeral was to take place on the Monday, and Kate visited Josie every day before then. Each time she found either Davy’s uncle or one of the neighbours there. One neighb
our accompanied Kate to the door as she left. ‘She’s a good thoughtful girl,’ she whispered, ‘having the funeral on Monday so people can get their good clothes out for it. Out of pawn, I mean,’ she added as Kate looked uncomprehending.

  Knowing how much it would mean to Josie, Kate asked Mildred to attend the funeral. ‘You said we were her family,’ she reminded her aunt, and Mildred agreed to be there.

  The funeral was quiet and dignified, and Josie’s fear that her mother-in-law might make a scene was not realised. She was not present at the funeral and only went to the cemetery the following day to remove Josie’s wreath from the grave and replace it with her own. Josie refused to allow this to upset her, and simply replaced her own wreath without removing the one from Davy’s mother. She was relieved to see or hear no more from the bitter old woman.

  Kate decided to leave after the ceremony at the graveside and return home with her aunt, as Josie would be accompanied to her own house by Davy’s uncle and many neighbours who had become friends.

  It was as well that she did. As she and Mildred entered the house a cab drew up and Mrs Bradley descended from it, accompanied by a tall, cadaverous man in a business suit and a velvet-collared overcoat. Mildred had gone straight to her rooms, but Kate held the door wide and exclaimed, ‘Mrs Bradley. I didn’t know you’d gone out.’

  Mrs Bradley made no reply, but the man said, ‘You are Miss Williams, I think. I am James Hooper of Jones, Hooper and Prendergast, and Mrs Bradley is my client.’

  Kate ushered them into the drawing room. ‘I’m very glad to meet you, Mr Hooper,’ she said with a sigh of relief. ‘I’ve been asking my aunt for your address. I am Miss Drew. Mrs Williams is my aunt. I’ll ring for some refreshments.’ She moved to ring for Lottie, feeling nervous because of the severe gaze of the lawyer and the expression on Mrs Bradley’s face, but before she could reach the bell pull Mr Hooper held up his hand.

  ‘No thank you,’ he said coldly. ‘This is not a social call, Miss Drew. Why did you wish to know my address?’