The Girl on the Doorstep: from the bestselling author of The Workhouse Children (A Black Country Novel)

by Lindsey Hutchinson

  Sarah smiled at the girl. ‘Thank you both.’

  ‘The way I see it is this. You ’ave to get on with yer own life now and forget all that – it’s in the past and you can’t carry it round with yer forever,’ the cook said. Then with a groan she got to her feet and resumed her duties.

  It’s all very well saying that, Sarah thought, but as she nodded in agreement she knew that deep down she would hate Margy Mitchell for as long as she lived. One day Margy would get her comeuppance and Sarah prayed she’d be there to see it.

  *

  The ‘Two Hearts’ moored up in Bilston and Bill walked along to the post office in Hall Street. He had requested they hold his post until he could collect it, and now seemed a good time to do so. The letter he was waiting for had finally arrived and he tore it open hastily. As he read the words he felt a tinge of sadness. His divorce from Sarah had been granted. He was sorry his marriage had ended the way it had, but he knew divorce was inevitable after all that had passed concerning his parents. He was relieved it was all over at last, but he felt apprehensive about telling the twins and how they would react to the news.

  Strolling back to the boat he reasoned the boys had had plenty of time to come to terms with his situation. Also, they were young men now and should cope better than if they were young children.

  The bottom of the letter had told him Sarah had received her papers at Daventry House, Beckett Street, Bilston. Now he knew where she was living he felt comfortable about his sons visiting their mother if they chose to. It was his guess Sarah would be in service there, so the lads would have to see her via the servants’ entrance at the back of the house.

  It was difficult meeting up with his parents for he never knew which town they would be in, but he could always leave a message with Rosie the next time he called.

  Frank and John were laughing and fooling about when he arrived at the boat and he was reluctant to spoil their jubilant mood. However, Bill decided to impart his news sooner rather than later, then at least it was done, and they could make of it what they will.

  Calling them into the cabin, Bill passed over the letter for them to read then he waited.

  Two pairs of eyes so like his own looked up at him and Bill nodded.

  ‘Are you all right, Dad?’ Frank asked.

  ‘I am. I’m more worried for you two,’ Bill answered.

  ‘We can always visit Mum when we’re here in Bilston,’ John said tapping the letter now lying on the tiny table.

  ‘Yes, I’m glad for that, in fact if you’ve a mind to, you could go today. I’ll stay and get the boat loaded then we can set sail tomorrow morning.’

  The twins smiled and exchanged an enquiring look.

  ‘Go on, your mum will be really pleased to see you. I’ll have your tea ready for when you get back.’ Bill jerked his thumb in the direction of the hatch.

  The brothers scrambled up onto the deck then stopped as Bill called out, ‘boys, take this to Sarah she might have need of it.’ Pulling his hand from his pocket he passed over a few pound notes.

  ‘See you later,’ the twins called in unison as they jumped nimbly onto the towpath.

  Bill watched them go, pride swelling in him. He heard them laugh as they pushed and shoved each other, and he prayed they would always remain so close.

  Please God, let nothing come between them.

  Frank whistled through his teeth when they arrived at Daventry House. As he made to walk to the front door, John caught his arm and shook his head.

  ‘Servants’ entrance,’ he whispered.

  Knocking firmly on the back door, the boys waited. The door opened a crack and shy eyes peeped through.

  ‘Hello, we’d like to see Sarah Mitchell please,’ John said.

  The door closed again, and the brothers looked at each other. However, a moment later the door rocked back on its hinges and their mother came flying through to throw an arm around each of her sons.

  ‘Oh! Oh boys, it’s so nice to see you!’ Sarah’s joyful tears ran down her face as she kissed the boys’ faces over and over.

  ‘Mum! Give over,’ John laughed as he pretended not to like all the fuss, but inside he was elated at Sarah’s reaction to their visit.

  ‘Come in and meet the others,’ Sarah said wiping away her tears and ushering the lads into the spacious kitchen.

  ‘Mrs Poole, Dora – these are my beautiful boys, Frank and John,’ Sarah announced beaming with pride.

  Dora smiled shyly, and Mrs Poole nodded a greeting.

  ‘Sit you down fella’s and have a cuppa tea. Dop… Dora, cake please,’ Mrs Poole corrected herself. It was taking some getting used to, to not call Dora ‘Dopey’.

  Fortunately, Mr Daventry was in his office at the bedstead works and the ‘missus’ was out at one of her many meetings. This gave mother and sons a good couple of hours together to exchange news and enjoy each other’s company.

  Sarah walked with the twins to the end of the driveway when it came time for them to leave.

  ‘Dad sent you this,’ Frank said handing over the money.

  ‘Thank him for me, it’s a kind gesture.’ Sarah smiled thinly as she pocketed the pound notes.

  ‘We’ll come again next time we’re in Bilston, Mum,’ John said as they hugged her tightly.

  ‘I’d love that. Now, get yourselves off before it gets dark.’ Sarah watched her sons disappear, her emotions in turmoil.

  Back in the kitchen Mrs Poole said, ‘Them am nice boys Sarah, yer should be very proud.’

  ‘I am, Mrs Poole, extremely.’ Sarah grinned.

  ‘Good looking an’ all,’ Dora added quietly.

  ‘Yes, they get that from their father,’ Sarah acknowledged.

  Sarah’s good mood lasted for the rest of the day.

  On their return to the boat, the twins learned their father had secured a load of house bricks to be taken to Birmingham. The loading began, and Bill went below to prepare their evening meal; Frank and John helped with the cargo.

  Later as they ate Bill asked after Sarah.

  ‘She’s doing well, she’s a maid at a big house,’ John said.

  ‘She sent her thanks for the money,’ Frank added.

  Bill nodded.

  ‘Will we call in on Rosie when we get to Birmingham?’ Frank asked.

  ‘We should have enough time for a quick visit, but I’ll have to get us another load organised,’ Bill answered thoughtfully.

  John scowled, a look his father didn’t miss. ‘Something wrong, John?’

  John shook his head. He wanted to visit in the hope of seeing Lucy Richards again, but he knew Frank would do his utmost to monopolise her time. He didn’t want to upset the family dynamic any more than it had been already, but he couldn’t help his feelings for Lucy.

  Bill watched his son push his food around on the plate. He had an inkling about what was milling around in the boy’s head, but until it was voiced – he couldn’t help.

  ‘I wonder if Lucy will be at home when we arrive,’ Frank asked in feigned innocence.

  John’s fork dropped on the plate with a clatter and his father and brother stared at him.

  ‘All right, let’s have it, John, and don’t tell me there’s nothing wrong because clearly there is,’ Bill said quietly.

  When John refused to speak, keeping his eyes on the cold food on his plate, Bill took up again.

  ‘I suspect you two boys have set your caps at the same young lady, namely Lucy Richards – am I right?’

  He watched his sons exchange a look across the tiny table and knew instantly his guess was correct.

  ‘I thought so. I also know you’re of an age now where your hormones are running wild. There are places to go to scratch that particular itch.’

  The boys grinned at each other despite feeling awkward about their predicament.

  ‘When we get to Birmingham, I’ll show you where to go if the itch gets too strong to deny. There are three houses – brothels – all in a row. They’re locally known
as Left, Right and Centre.’

  The twins guffawed.

  ‘How do you know?’ Frank asked.

  ‘Everybody knows, lad, but I’ll tell you honestly, I have never visited any of them.’

  ‘Not sure I fancy that,’ Frank said.

  ‘Nor me,’ John agreed wrinkling his nose.

  ‘Now, as far as young Lucy is concerned, it might be that she has no feelings for either of you. Have you thought about that?’ Bill asked.

  The boys shook their heads.

  ‘Well think on. I love you boys and I don’t want to see you fall out over a slip of a girl, no matter how pretty and sweet she is. There’s been enough feuding in this family already.’ Bill sighed loudly. ‘Look, if it should be that Lucy chooses one of you, the other must take it like a man and be glad for his brother. It may break your heart, but life goes on and we all have to make the best of it.’

  ‘Dad…’ John asked tentatively, ‘now that you and mum are divorced, will you marry again?’

  ‘Blimey! What a question. The ink on the divorce papers isn’t dry yet. It’s far too early to be thinking about re-marrying. Besides, who’d have me?’ Bill grinned.

  His grin turned to shock when the twins chorused, ‘Rosie Harris!’

  Thirty-two

  Margy and Abner Mitchell trudged through the streets towards Rosie’s home.

  ‘I suppose there’s a chance ’er won’t be in,’ Abner puffed.

  ‘Well Fanny next door will be, so we can allus leave a message,’ Margy replied.

  As they turned into Upper Marshall Street they heard a shrill whistle cut the air. Spinning around Margy’s face lit up.

  ‘Grandma, Grandad,’ the call came, and the twins bowled up to give them both a hug. Bill followed along behind at a slower pace.

  ‘What are the odds we’d meet up here again?’ Bill laughed as he cuddled his mother.

  They all walked down the street together, the boys chatting away to their grandfather.

  ‘Mum, I’ve received my divorce papers,’ Bill confided.

  Margy stopped and looked at her son. ‘How do you feel about it?’

  ‘Relieved. I’m just glad it’s all over and the boys seem fine with it.’

  ‘You going to tell Rosie?’ Margy asked as she walked on.

  ‘Do you think I should?’

  ‘Yes, it’s only courteous, especially as her’s your gaffer,’ his mother said.

  ‘True enough. I’ll see if I can find a suitable moment.’

  As it turned out it was Frank who imparted the news when Rosie asked after Sarah.

  ‘Dad’s divorced now,’ he said.

  ‘Oh Bill, I’m sorry to hear that,’ Rosie said as inside her something stirred. Was it hope?

  ‘It was necessary, Rosie,’ Bill answered.

  Frank’s laugh cut the morose mood and all eyes turned to him. He and Lucy were sitting looking over the drawings and sketches she’d produced since last seeing them.

  John scowled. Why didn’t Lucy ever laugh like that with him? He felt the hurt burn his chest. He had been unaware until that moment that jealousy could produce physical pain. John was quiet for the remainder of the visit and was relieved when his father stood to leave.

  Each shook hands with Rosie and when John’s hand met hers she felt the shudder come again. After Bill and the twins left, Rosie sat once more with Abner and Margy.

  ‘There’ll be trouble there you mark my words,’ Margy said as she tipped her head towards the door.

  Rosie frowned in question, but Lucy voiced it. ‘Why?’

  ‘Both of them boys am carryin’ a candle for you, Lucy,’ Margy said firmly.

  ‘Don’t interfere, luv,’ Abner warned.

  ‘I ain’t interfering, I’m just sayin’,’ his wife replied.

  Lucy’s eyes widened in surprise and a blush rose to her cheeks. ‘’Ow do yer know?’

  ‘Cos her’s got eyes like a shit-house rat!’ Abner said barely audibly.

  After a moment of stunned silence, the women all burst out laughing at his turn of phrase.

  ‘Margy’s right,’ Rosie said finally.

  Lucy was flustered as she looked at her friend.

  ‘I felt it when I shook John’s hand. He’s jealous of his brother, and very much in love with you,’ Rosie added.

  ‘I ain’t given him cause,’ Lucy said in her own defence.

  ‘We know that sweet’eart, but look at it from John’s point of view. He’s the shy one where Frank is a bit bolder. John watches when you’m laughing and larking about with Frank, albeit innocently, and it hurts ’im,’ Margy said trying not to upset Lucy.

  ‘What can I do? I like both of ’em but I never thought…’ Her words died, and she sat sulking.

  ‘This is something the twins will have to sort out between themselves,’ Rosie said.

  ‘Just don’t be biased with yer attentions, give each the same amount of time otherwise yer’ll find you’ll ’ave to skedaddle when they come ’ere,’ Margy added.

  ‘This is my ’ome – why should I ’ave to go out when they visit?’ Lucy asked indignantly.

  ‘Lucy, would you like me to have a quiet word with Bill and see what he thinks?’ Rosie asked.

  Lucy nodded.

  Rosie gave her a tight smile in return. The rest of her prediction she kept to herself.

  *

  On the way back to the wharf, John said he was going for a quick visit with his mother when they were once again in Bilston.

  ‘I’m glad and it will please her, she’s still your mum after all.’ Bill nodded.

  John felt in sore need of someone to talk to. He was in turmoil and the only person he thought would understand was his mother. She would know what to do about his predicament. Feeling slightly better he walked on.

  The weather was beginning to turn, and a chill hung in the air. Autumn was beautiful as the trees changed their cloaks of green to be replaced by ones of gold and red. Leaves fluttered down to lay a protective thick carpet around the roots and animals prepared for the coming winter.

  Everywhere people felt the cold and donned extra clothing. Men brought out jackets which had been stored throughout the summer. Thicker shawls draped the shoulders of women and thick hard-wearing skirts protected legs covered by woollen stockings.

  John shivered as he wondered how bleak it might be on the canals when winter finally set in. Life on the waterways during the summer had been glorious; would he still feel the same when his fingers and toes were frozen?

  Aboard once more, John pulled out his jacket and ignored the jibes from Frank about being a cissy.

  ‘I’m away to find a backload, so it’s up to you two to prepare a meal,’ Bill said before leaving the boat.

  The twins went below to begin their allotted task. Before long the conversation came round to Lucy and what their father had said.

  ‘It could be dad is right and Lucy only has eyes for another,’ Frank said as he scraped the potatoes.

  ‘Hmm.’ John was peeling onions, his eyes starting to sting and water.

  ‘I do like her though,’ Frank said.

  ‘Frank, shut up about her, will you?’ John could feel the jealousy building inside him once more.

  ‘What? I was only saying…’

  ‘Shut up! For goodness sake give over!’ John slammed the knife down on the chopping board laid on the tiny table.

  Frank’s eyes widened in surprise at his brother’s outburst.

  John clamped his teeth together and drew in a long slow breath through flared nostrils. He stared down at the onions, his eyes burning.

  ‘John?’ Frank had never seen his twin so upset.

  John shook his head as he fought to control the tremble of his limbs. Anger, envy, and distress all fused in him leaving him feeling confused.

  Frank wisely said nothing more as he watched his brother slowly calm down again.

  The twins continued their work in silence; Frank for fear of upsetting his soul mate, and John
for fear of his mixed emotions exploding.

  It was a couple of hours later when Bill walked into an atmosphere he could have cut with a knife.

  *

  Walking towards Daventry House, John was pleased his father had secured a load of vegetables to be delivered to Bilston. It gave him the chance to visit his mother and as he trudged along, he was glad to be going alone.

  Frank had wanted to come along, but John had skipped off the boat before the unloading was complete. He felt a little guilty for leaving the work to his father and brother, but he’d make it up to them somehow. He needed this short time with Sarah, just the two of them.

  Reaching the house, he sidled around to the back entrance and banged on the door. Greeted by Dora, he was invited in.

  Sarah was thrilled to see him but was surprised and saddened that Frank was not with him. Something was up, her boys were usually so close it was as if they were stuck together with glue.

  Mrs Poole also could see there was something amiss. ‘Sarah, I wonder if you’d be good enough to go to the shop and fetch some flour – it seems I’ve run out.’

  ‘You ain’t, there’s some in—’ Dora began.

  Mrs Poole shot the girl a look that could sour milk and Dora lowered her head. ‘I used that up already, Dora.’

  Smiling at Cook for her thoughtfulness, Sarah grabbed her coat and threaded her arm through John’s. As the door closed behind them Dora said, ‘I’s sorry, Mrs Poole, I d’aint quite understand at first.’

  ‘Ar well, there’s summat on that lad’s mind that he’s in need of sharing with ’is mother. It’s my guess it’s to do with a lass,’ the cook said as she sat at the table and shook her head.

  ‘I wonder where the other one is,’ Dora mused.

  ‘With his dad I would imagine, but it’s strange they ain’t come together,’ Mrs Poole said. However, she thought she knew full well why Frank Mitchell was not with his brother.

  Sarah and John strolled slowly down the drive and out into the street.

  ‘Now we’re away from flapping ears, tell me what’s wrong between you and our Frank,’ Sarah said firmly. Inside she was sad her son had a problem, but ecstatic that he had brought it to her. It showed he trusted her with whatever was bothering him.