When Day is Done

by When Day is Done (retail) (epub

  Later she told Kate more calmly about the visit. ‘It was lovely being part of the family,’ she said. ‘Like sinking into a feather bed. It’s what I’ve always longed for. Michael’s mother told me to call her Mammy like the rest. I told her all about being left on the doorstep. You know, I’ve always been a bit ashamed of it, although I think my mother must have been desperate to do it, but I didn’t mind telling her a bit.’

  ‘There was nothing for you to be ashamed of,’ Kate said. ‘I didn’t know you felt like that.’

  ‘She just put her arms round me and said, “Ah, the poor girl. It must have broken her heart to leave you but she did what was best for you, God help her. And you know she loved you to be sending the dolls all those years.”’

  ‘She sounds a real nice woman,’ Kate said, and Josie replied enthusiastically, ‘Oh, she is, Kate. I knew she would be because of Michael, but she’s even nicer than I expected. They all are. I went to church with them and even the priest was nice. I might have been born a Catholic with a name like Josephine, y’know. I felt at home there.’

  Kate was not surprised when Josie told her that she had arranged to take instruction in the Catholic faith, and that Michael had asked her to marry him. Kate had met him and immediately liked the big, gentle man and his tender concern for Josie. She felt that although Josie had always faced life with courage, she had been alone except for a few friends, and even though she had been happy with Davy, she had had to be the strong one in that marriage. It would be good for her to be cared for.

  ‘Looks like Josie’s fell on her feet again,’ Lottie said with a sigh. She often walked out with various young men, but none of her affairs ever lasted for long.

  Josie was afraid that Kate might think it was too soon after Davy’s death, but Kate urged her to grasp happiness. ‘It’s what Davy would have wanted,’ she told her, and when Josie took Michael to meet Davy’s uncle, he said the same thing.

  ‘Look after her,’ he told Michael. ‘She’s a good girl and she gave my poor nephew the only happiness he ever had. I’d like to be there when his ma hears about it,’ he added with a chuckle. ‘She’ll be fit to be tied.’

  Michael wanted the wedding in May, but then Josie began to worry that they were rushing into it. ‘We’ve only known each other a few months,’ she said, but Michael said he’d known in the first five minutes that she was the girl for him. ‘What about your family?’ Josie said, and he laughed and kissed her.

  ‘Aren’t they all delighted?’ he said, ‘Sure, I think ye’ve bewitched them as well as meself.’ When Josie still looked doubtful, Michael kissed her again. ‘Sure, they all think it’s magic. A lump like meself that never looked at a girl and I see yourself and lose me heart entirely.’

  Josie smiled. ‘But what does your mammy think really?’ she said.

  ‘She thinks it was meant to be, that God sent you to us to console us for Noreen. Ye have the same lovely brown eyes she had and her lovable ways, but we love you for yourself, me darlin’. Mammy thinks you’re an answer to her prayers.’ He grinned at her. ‘Wasn’t she afraid she was going to have a crusty old bachelor on her hands. She told me she loves the bones of you already,’ and Josie was reassured.

  It was arranged that Josie would clear her house and send her goods to Ireland. Kate would travel with her for the wedding in the second week of May, and Lottie would manage for the two days that Kate would be away. The day before they were due to go, Mildred suffered another stroke and took to her bed, so Kate had to cancel her plans and Josie travelled alone.

  Mildred’s speech was slightly slurred, but her mind was still clear, except that she seemed to have forgotten how little part she had taken recently in running the guesthouse. She demanded a report every morning from Kate on what she had bought and proposed to cook, and what cleaning was planned.

  For two weeks she lay in bed, constantly ringing for attention or demanding details of what was happening in the guesthouse. She refused to let Lottie take any part in caring for her, saying that it was Kate’s duty as her niece, and Kate felt worn out by her aunt’s constant demands. She was bitterly disappointed at missing Josie’s wedding and already feeling the loss of her cheerful, affectionate company.

  Although Lottie was a good worker and willing to do more because Kate was so busy with Mildred, Kate had never felt as close to her as she did to Josie. Lottie was selective about her chores. She would do anything for the Barry sisters, but resented being asked to do the charwoman’s work when, as often happened, she failed to arrive.

  Kate missed her visits to Greenfields too, but her life had become so difficult that it was some time since she had been able to visit there. She wrote to Rose telling of her difficulties with Mildred, but promising to visit as soon as possible. She received a short note from Rose saying that her life was difficult too as Aunt Beattie was now an invalid. She sent her love to Kate, but Mildred was not mentioned.

  It was at this time when her spirits were so low that Kate received a letter from the Front from Henry. It was crumpled and muddy and she opened it with trembling fingers.

  Dear Kate,

  I have to write to you, Kate. I know you’ll understand. I am in a rest camp. We came out of the line wet and filthy, covered in mud, staggering like drunken men for lack of sleep. We passed the men who were taking our places, first-timers, young and fresh and clean and human. They were like another breed.

  We don’t feel human any more. Going blindly and insensibly to our fate which is decided by old men far away. Far away in every sense, Kate. We just dropped as we were in the camp and slept as though stunned but I am awake now and I have been looking up at the stars shining above us. What must they make of this madness? The acres of mud sown with the bodies of dead men instead of fields of wheat? But of course they have seen it all before on other battlefields down the ages.

  It makes me feel that none of this matters, Kate. Our brief moment of life means so little in the larger plan.

  I think of you often, Kate, and the happy days in the guesthouse. The memory of your fortitude and your ready smile that warmed my heart comforts and helps me now. God bless you always, Kate.

  Henry.

  Kate stood gripping the letter, torn between joy that Henry was comforted by his memories of her, and sadness that he seemed so troubled and unhappy, and so different from the Henry she remembered. She longed to comfort him, to write to him pouring out her love for him, but she was afraid. What if it fell into the wrong hands? If it was seen by men who knew he was married, or even by Agnes? I might cause trouble for him, she thought.

  In the end she wrote a formal letter, saying little about her own feelings, but trying to comfort Henry and telling him she understood. At least he was now out of danger, she thought, and when he was less exhausted he would feel better. She had little time to feel either joy or grief.

  Chapter Fifteen

  One day, late in May, Mildred had been very demanding, and had even rung for Kate during the night to turn her pillows. The next morning Kate was wakened by Lottie from a deep sleep and stumbled into the kitchen. ‘The woman’s not coming,’ Lottie said abruptly, and after a look at her face Kate said wearily, ‘All right. I’ll do the steps.’

  She gulped a cup of tea, then pulled on her aunt’s old skirt, and a mobcap over her hair, and went out to scrub the front steps. I’m as bad as Lottie, wearing these old clothes so I won’t be recognised, she thought, as she changed back into her dress to take up Mildred’s breakfast.

  She suspected her aunt could do more for herself if she chose, and told her firmly that she would not answer her bell again at night. ‘I need my sleep,’ she said. ‘There’s a lot to do for just two of us,’ but Mildred was even more demanding for the rest of the day. Kate felt worn out when at last the long day was over and she was alone in her bedroom.

  She undressed and slipped on her nightdress, then hung up her dress before sitting down and picking up the Liverpool Echo. She turned first to the casualty lists as s
he always did, although she no longer expected to see Henry’s name. He had survived so much, and for some time she had thought that he must still be behind the lines while others took their turn in danger.

  The shock was all the greater when his name seemed to leap up at her from the page. Captain H. C. Barnes, King’s Liverpool Regiment. The newspaper dropped from her nerveless fingers. Oh God, no, no! she screamed silently, then snatched up the Echo again to look at the lines in stunned disbelief. Not Henry, she thought wildly. Not now, after all this time. There must have been some mistake.

  Her hands were shaking so much that the paper dropped from them, and she jumped to her feet and began to pace about the room, twisting her hands together frantically. The one word no repeated itself in her brain until suddenly reality burst upon her and she flung herself on the bed, moaning in agony and biting the pillow to stop herself from screaming aloud.

  ‘Henry, Henry,’ she moaned, thinking of his dear face, his laughing eyes looking into hers as he teased her, and his kiss on her cheek as he gave her the bouquet. For years she had tried to convince herself that she loved him as a grateful child, then as her model of all a man should be, and felt guilty if she dreamed about him, but now all her careful defences were swept away.

  I loved him and he loved me, she wept. I know he did. We should have married. It was all Mildred’s fault. She felt a surge of hatred for her aunt, then for Henry’s wife. She stood up again and walked about, unable to lie still. I was a fool, she thought. I loved Henry and he loved me long before she arrived. It was just that he thought I was too young, and I was too timid.

  Agnes was so bossy and pushy. She chased Henry and he was too nice and too kind to snub her. And she had the cheek to try to change him. I would just have loved him. It’s my own fault. I should have done something.

  She thought of the telegram arriving at Rufford Road. What did it say? When had it happened, and where? Had Henry suffered? At the thought of him dying in the mud of Flanders, of that bright spirit snuffed out, she forgot herself and was overcome again with sorrow. She lay on her bed again, her body racked with sobs until her thoughts drove her to her feet again to pace the room, too distraught to lie still.

  It seemed that the night would never end, but daylight had come although Kate was unaware of it, and as she lay on the bed once again, shaking with grief and cold with shock, Lottie knocked on the door. ‘The missus is ringing for you, Kate,’ she called.

  Kate said hoarsely, ‘See to her. I’m not well.’

  Lottie cautiously opened the door. ‘What’s up? Do you want a cup of tea?’ she said, but Kate only huddled further into the bedclothes and said, ‘Go away. Go away.’

  ‘All right,’ Lottie said in an offended voice, and flounced away, but Kate was back in her world of misery.

  Later in the morning Lottie returned and put a cup of tea down beside Kate. ‘Wharrisit, Kate?’ she asked.

  ‘A cold,’ replied Kate, her face muffled in the bedclothes.

  Lottie touched the pillow. ‘This is soaking. Maybe you’re sweating it out of you,’ she said hopefully. ‘What should I do, Kate?’

  ‘Whatever you think,’ Kate replied, and Lottie went off importantly, while the weary treadmill of Kate’s thoughts began again. She wept with the bitter agony of loss and the even more bitter regret for what might have been, and for the fact that she had no right to mourn.

  Yet I’ve loved him since I was twelve, she thought, and not a day has passed when I haven’t thought of him. She longed for Mrs Molesworth or Josie, for someone in whom she could confide and who would comfort her, but there was no one. Perhaps she could tell Rose sometime, but she needed someone here and now.

  Sometime in mid-morning Lottie knocked and said that she was going to the shops, and a little later Kate got up and sat on the side of the bed. She felt that she was going mad. Her thoughts were skittering about like rats in a trap, and everything seemed unreal. She felt that she was living through a nightmare and the walls of the room were closing in on her. She had to get out.

  She jumped to her feet and snatched up her aunt’s old skirt, which lay on a nearby chair. She pulled it on over her nightdress, then thrust her bare feet into a pair of old shoes. She bundled up her hair and hastily pinned on an old felt hat, then went into the deserted kitchen and, taking an old jacket from behind the door, went up the steps to the street.

  The day was bright and sunny, but Kate was unaware of it as she walked blindly away from the house. She had been walking rapidly for more than an hour, immersed in her sad thoughts, when she found herself in Bold Street, the fashionable shopping centre of Liverpool.

  The people she passed seemed like ghosts to her, until suddenly she saw Rose. She noticed nothing of the crowds around her, or of the friends with Rose, only her beloved sister, and she started towards her. Rose looked at her. Her blue eyes widened as she glanced over Kate, then she turned her head away towards her friends.

  Kate stood still for a moment, frozen in shock, then she fled away in the opposite direction to Rose, running like someone demented until she reached the haven of the guesthouse. To reach her own room she needed to go through the kitchen, past Lottie, and some instinct made her go instead through the front door and up the stairs to hide away in one of the empty bedrooms.

  As she sped up the stairs and along the landing, Gordon Trent slipped quietly from his room at the back of the house. They both stopped, then he took her arm and said with concern, ‘What is it, Kate? Is it your aunt?’ She shook her head, tears running down her face, and he drew her into his bedroom and closed the door. ‘What is it?’ he asked again, drawing her down to sit beside him on the bed. ‘Has someone upset you?’ but she seemed unable to speak.

  Gently he slipped off her jacket and unpinned her hat, then put his arm around her and smoothed back her hair, which had escaped from the pins and hung down her back. As he held her, making soothing noises, she began to pour out her grief at Henry’s death and her rejection by Rose.

  Still holding her close, he gently eased her back on to the bed and lay beside her, holding her and gently smoothing back her hair, while Kate sobbed out her despair and desolation. Gradually his hands moved to her body, skilfully touching and stroking her, but immersed in her sorrow, Kate seemed unaware of what was happening.

  He was surprised and pleased to find that under the rusty skirt and cotton nightgown she wore no underclothes. She lay pliant in his arms, still weeping, as he explored. It was only when he finally entered her that she opened her tear-swollen eyes and looked up at him in alarm, but he held her close and pressed his lips hard on her mouth.

  It was soon over, but he still held her close to him. ‘It’s all right, it’s all right, darling,’ he soothed while he continued to cover her face with kisses. To Kate it all seemed part of the unreal world she inhabited, and she made no protest.

  After a time he drew her up to sit again on the side of the bed, while he whispered, ‘I have to go, darling. Lottie thinks you’re in your room. We’ll go down now and I’ll get her out of the kitchen while you slip into your room. Do you feel better?’ She nodded and he kissed her again. ‘This is the worst. It’ll get a bit easier every day now.’

  Docilely she allowed Gordon to straighten her clothes and lead her down the stairs and out of the front door. ‘I’ll go and get Lottie out of the kitchen, then you can slip in,’ he said again, then ran lightly down the area steps and into the kitchen.

  Kate followed slowly. The kitchen was deserted, but she could hear Lottie’s voice in the hall above. Still moving as though in a dream, she went into her own room off the kitchen and threw off her skirt and shoes, then climbed into bed and within minutes fell into an exhausted sleep.

  Lottie knocked several times, but Kate slept on. At last, becoming alarmed, Lottie came into the room. She drew the bedclothes away from Kate’s face and was relieved to see that she was breathing, although her face looked flushed and swollen. The skirt had fallen from the chair, so Lottie pick
ed it up, then folded the newspaper which lay on the floor beneath, without realising the significance of it.

  A little later, Gordon Trent returned to his room to tidy away the evidence and hide Kate’s hat and jacket in his wardrobe. He lay on top of the bedclothes, his arms behind his head, as he thought over the events of the past few hours.

  I’ve done it, he thought exultantly. Seized my chance. He had been working towards this, to settling here at least until it suited him to move on. He seemed to have found the perfect hidey-hole for now, but to get his hands on this place and the money he’d have to marry Kate. Now it was settled. Kate would tell someone what had happened, and if she did not he would feel obliged to confess. He grinned happily.

  Either way the relatives would insist on marriage. They sounded like such a strait-laced crew, the Bible-thumping old woman here, and the rich aunt in the big house. He thought over all he had learned about the set-up from Josie, and Kate’s incoherent revelations earlier. She might have married the fellow who’d been killed, an officer no less, and her sister had cut her, but that was not important. It was the aunt at West Derby who held the pursestrings, and Josie had said Kate was a favourite there.

  As he thought of Kate weeping in his arms, the better side of his nature came briefly to the fore and he felt unfamiliar shame, and compassion, but the moment soon passed. I treated her gently. Didn’t hurt her. In fact, I comforted her, he thought defensively, and turned his mind to his prospects.

  This had been a first-class place before the war, good solid furniture and fittings, and it would be again. The old aunt was on the way out and it would all come to Kate, then plenty more when the other aunt snuffed it too. Who’d ever find him here, the respected proprietor of a posh boarding house with servants and plenty of money? he thought. Not the Naylor gang, or the military police.