by Ros Franey
‘I don’t know, do I? Depends what it is!’ If this was her idea of keeping me calm, it wasn’t succeeding.
‘All right. Listen. It’s something I heard this afternoon…’
It seems that after the doctor’s visit, Daddy had come home for lunch and Beatrice had been sent to lie down. She’d forgotten her book and come back downstairs to get it, passing the partly open door of the sitting room where Mother and Daddy were having a conversation. What caused her to stop and listen was Agnes saying, ‘That dog.’
My hand flew to my mouth as I listened to what she had to tell me: ‘I couldn’t hear it all,’ Beatrice shook her head in frustration at the memory. ‘These were the snatches I heard.’ She frowned, trying to remember them in order. ‘Mother saying, “Winter coming on again … Mess in the yard …” And Daddy saying something about “house dog”.’
‘What mess in the yard?’ I broke in. ‘She makes no mess! We take her out all the time — poor Nana, stuck out there. If she doesn’t want a mess in the yard, that’s simple! Bring her back into the house where she belongs! And what does Daddy mean by house dog? Does he mean she ought to be in the house, or that she does a useful service as a house dog, barking and stuff?’
‘Shush, Annie.’ I could tell Beatrice was quite cross. ‘What did I tell you about histrionics? Now shut up and listen. Then Mother said, “Dog’s not getting any younger … Gets on my nerves, Harry … Need to do something.” And he said, “Difficult … Children … ask Mr Holley.” And she said, “See to it, Harry.”’
I had to take this in for a moment. Then I said, ‘I hate her.’
For once, Beatrice let it go.
‘Nana’s not old,’ I burst out. ‘She’s only five!’
‘Six,’ Beatrice corrected. ‘She came two years before Mother died.’
‘Well six isn’t old.’
‘She probably meant it wasn’t fair to make her stay outside another Winter.’
‘Well bring her in then!’ I exploded.
‘Calm, Annie,’ reminded Beatrice.
‘So what will Mr Holley do with her?’ I asked. ‘He doesn’t want a dog, does he?’
‘Well …’ Beatrice took a deep breath. ‘He … might not keep her.’
‘So what will he do? Will he give her away?’ The idea of Nana going to strangers was unbearable.
‘I don’t think he’d find a home for a six-year-old dog, Annie.’
‘So what will he do with her, then?’
Beatrice was silent for a moment. ‘I remember Fred telling me last time he was home that Mr Holley’s got a gun.’
I stared at her.
She couldn’t look at me. ‘I’m not saying … but that’s why I’m telling you this. We need to do something. I need you to be very grown-up, Annie, and help us decide what to do.’
My mind was in complete uproar: for one thing, Beatrice had never, ever asked me to help her decide anything. This was the very first time. Secondly, I hadn’t realised she cared so much about Nana that she would even consider going against our parents’ wishes. It must be difficult for her, and I had no doubt she was doing it for Fred and me. I also knew her to be scrupulous and that the words she had recalled would have been the correct words; unlike me, she was never prone to exaggeration – not that I fib about things exactly, but perhaps I sometimes make them out to be more dramatic than they really are (that’s what people say, anyway). So if she was even mentioning Mr Holley’s gun, it could only be that she had heard more than she let on. Perhaps they had spoken about shooting Nana and Beatrice had wanted to spare me that. As this idea grew, I became convinced of it and I was deeply grateful to her for confiding in me, and for saying that we were in it together and must find a way through it – together. She was right: this was too serious to waste time weeping and wailing. Nana was our dog and we must save her. I must prove myself a sister worthy of Beatrice’s trust.
FIFTEEN
1926
And it was this problem with Nana that led us right into the middle of the mystery of Miss Mildred Blessing. The day after Beatrice had told me about Mr Holley, and I don’t want to say anything more about the gun because it was just too dreadful, Marjorie and I were taking a shortcut back to school after hockey practice. I had briefly considered asking Marjorie if their family could take Nana, but it didn’t feel like a good solution; they’d probably think nothing of keeping her in the coal-hole. So I decided not to say anything about our dog dilemma to anyone at school. Besides, Beatrice thought that with her being at home, ill and everything, Daddy probably wouldn’t do the horrible deed, because it would be just awful for Nana to have to go with Mr Holley if Beatrice were watching. So she reckoned we had a few days – until she was back at school, anyway – to think of a plan.
Marjorie had led us down Exchange Road past the Kingdom Hall and as we approached it, I wondered again what it would be like to be a Jehovah’s Witness. When I first heard about the Bible Student Movement I thought it sounded rather like us: I discovered they had the total immersion, but much bigger – on football pitches in America, they told me – and I thought about Nottingham Forest, which was so huge I had only glimpsed bits of it between the houses, and imagined the whole pitch transformed into a celestial swimming baths, with their Pastor, like Grandfather Pastor Eames, floating about in the middle, dunking the queues of believers backwards under the water, one, two, three. But Mother put me straight on the Bible Student Movement. She said they weren’t like us at all, not one little bit, because they hadn’t been saved. She said they thought they had, because at Armageddon they believed the whole world would be turned to rubble with just them alive in it, but they were wrong about this because it wasn’t them who were getting saved – it was us. She told me I had to be grateful I was not one of them because they had to do the Ministry on the doorsteps and anyway they didn’t believe in Christmas or birthdays, so it was no fun. Well, she didn’t say it was no fun – that’s what I said to Beatrice afterwards. ‘And imagine having to go and knock on people’s doors and tell them they’ve got to follow their Jehovah if they want to survive Armageddon,’ I told Beatrice. ‘I’d just die if I had to do that.’
‘Well, you’re not, so you don’t have to,’ retorted Beatrice. ‘So don’t worry about it.’ She didn’t seem to find the Bible Student Movement a bit interesting.
‘I’m glad I go to the Golgotha Mission,’ I confided. ‘Fancy doing the total immersion on the football pitch and everything, and spending hours at the Kingdom Hall thinking you’re going to be saved, when you aren’t saved at all, and you don’t even get birthday presents.’
Beatrice had given me a withering look and I shut up. Trouble was, I was thinking to myself as I walked down Exchange Road that afternoon, if I didn’t believe in God the way Beatrice did, maybe I wasn’t saved, either. God would know, of course. There’s no pulling the wool over His eyes. But then another thought struck me, a thought that was very probably blasphemous and could get me un-saved on the spot, even if I wasn’t already: how were we to know that we were God’s chosen? Supposing Grandfather Pastor Eames was wrong and it was the Jehovah’s Witnesses all along? I didn’t want to think about that, so I came back to the present with a bump, walking down the road with Marjorie Bagshaw after hockey, worrying about Nana – and then I saw them.
At first I thought I was dreaming because it was so peculiar to see people together, like you see them in dreams, when they belong to quite separate bits of your life: but there they both were, Daddy and Miss Mildred Blessing, walking slowly and talking together just ahead of us on the street. I stopped dead in my tracks, clutching the sleeve of Marjorie’s coat.
‘What’s bitten you?’ she asked loudly, her gaze following mine to the two of them
‘Shut up!’ I hissed. ‘That’s Daddy with my Sunday School teacher. They’re not even friends.’
‘Eh, well you’re obviously wrong about that!’ said Marjorie. ‘Here—’ She dragged me behind a billboard outside the Kingdom Hall. WHA
T IS MISSING IN THIS CH—CH? it asked, and underneath, the letters: UR. ‘You want to wait for them to go.’
‘What for?’
‘Because they probably don’t want you walking up to them.’
‘I don’t see why!’
‘Oh well, go ahead then, go and disturb them. But it looks to me as if they’re having a very private discussion.’
‘It must be about the Mission,’ I said. ‘Miss Blessing plays the harmonium there.’
‘Miss who did you say?’
‘There’s nothing wrong,’ I told her. ‘What could be wrong?’
‘You tell me!’ Marjorie pulled a face. ‘Stories we hear about your dad, I’d say you wouldn’t want to bet on that.’
Marjorie had hinted at this before. ‘What stories? What about my dad?’ I asked her crossly.
‘Oh nothing. Just that he’s a bit of a charmer.’
I looked at her for a moment, unsure what this was supposed to mean: snake charmer? ‘Who says?’
‘Our Iris went to a Ladies’ Evening at the ’Masons with Dad and your dad was there. She says he’s got an eye for the girls.’
Ever since that terrible day at Goose Fair I’d had a soft spot for Marjorie’s sister Iris, but Beatrice would have said Bagshaws were not to be depended on – and in any case I was aware I had to defend Daddy’s honour. ‘Well I don’t care,’ I said. ‘I’m going to go and speak to them. Come on!’ I started off down the road at a brisk trot with my shoe-bag and hockey stick knocking against my legs, and Marjorie rather reluctantly in tow. This was unlike her; she was usually much bolder than me. As we got closer to them, I could tell that Miss Blessing and my father were indeed having a very earnest conversation. From behind, they both looked serious (I know you can’t see a person’s face from behind, but I could tell). I’ve said before that Daddy is not very tall, and as Miss Blessing is a good deal taller than – well, me, for instance – she did not have to look up to him very far.
‘Daddy!’ I called, when I was close enough to speak without shouting, which would have been rude.
His head was sideways on to me and for a split second he seemed to hesitate, his eyes on Miss Blessing’s face, before turning around to me. ‘Good heavens! Hello, Annie.’
‘Hello Daddy! Hello, Miss Blessing.’
‘Well what a surprise,’ he said, beaming his good-mood smile. ‘What are you girls doing here?’
I remembered to introduce them to Marjorie, hoping as I did so that I had got it the right way round, something I always forget. ‘Miss Blessing, Daddy, this is Marjorie Bagshaw.’
‘How d’you do?’ Marjorie whispered, peeling and unpeeling the rubber at the top of her hockey stick.
‘How’s your father, Marjorie?’ Daddy asked.
‘Very well, thank you, Mr Lang,’ mumbled Marjorie.
‘We’re just on our way from hockey,’ I explained.
‘Well, well. I believe you know Miss Blessing?’
‘Oh yes,’ I said, suddenly feeling shy. I stole a glance at her. She was looking strained, I thought, and not her usual self at all.
‘Hello Annie,’ she said. ‘Fancy that.’ She sounded sort of formal, different; it reminded me of the way she had been that day at the Mission. There was a slight hesitation before she went on, ‘I was just—’
‘We were talking about Miss Blessing’s family,’ Daddy broke in. He smiled at Miss Blessing.
‘Oh – I hope they’re quite well?’ I asked her.
‘Yes, thank you,’ she replied. ‘My sister is teaching in Canada now.’
There was a short pause. ‘We’ve got to go,’ said Marjorie. ‘We’ll be in detention if we’re not back, Annie.’
‘Really?’ Daddy looked surprised. ‘Goodness. Strict discipline at Mundella, then. That’s what I like to hear.’
I shot him a curious look. This wasn’t what he would normally say; he sounded like the father in the Dick and Jane books – not like a real daddy at all. He just stood there beaming at us in a sort of cardboard way, and I suddenly wanted to be gone. ‘’Bye then, Daddy. See you later,’ I said. ‘Goodbye, Miss Blessing. See you on Sunday.’
‘Goodbye, Annie.’
Then Marjorie was practically dragging me down the road.
‘So there you are, then,’ I said as we turned the corner. I hadn’t dared look back at them.
‘There I am – what?’ asked Marjorie. ‘That was just about the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me in my whole life, Annie.’
‘No it wasn’t! What’s wrong with it?’
‘What’s wrong with it? Did you not notice, Annie Lang, that they were dying of embarrassment.’
‘Not specially. It was just a bit of a shock.’
‘It was written all over them! I wanted the pavement to swallow me up! You should have done what I said and stayed out of sight!’
‘What for? I’ve nothing to hide.’
‘You’ve nothing to hide. What about them?’
‘Marjorie, my Dad goes to the Mission every week – he must know her. She plays the harmonium – that’s what my stepmother used to do.’
‘Oh Annie. You’re even more innocent than I thought you were! She probably doesn’t even have a sister.’
I rounded on her, ‘Of course she has, if she says she has. Besides, I’ve met her sister. So.’
‘Well I was watching her, and she definitely didn’t want you coming up and finding them talking like that.’
I was almost crying with frustration. ‘Marjorie, he’s my father. He takes an interest in people. What’s so mysterious about it?’
Marjorie said nothing. We hurried back to school in silence. I was remembering how Beatrice had made me promise never to mention the name of Mildred Blessing to Mother or Daddy under any circumstances. But our chance meeting had given me an idea: of course Miss Blessing was the solution to our Nana problem! The Blessing family loved dogs! Edwina had just about offered to rescue ours! Surely her mother would give dear Nana a safe home.
I wanted to tell Beatrice about my idea as soon as I got back to the house, but to my surprise Daddy was home early and we all sat down together. The suspicions stirred up by Marjorie made me decide to say nothing about our meeting and I was hugely relieved when Daddy raised the subject himself. ‘Little Annie’s getting very grown-up these days,’ he remarked as Mother poured the tea. ‘I bumped into her in town – near Trent Bridge, no less.’
‘What were you doing down there, Annie?’ asked Mother.
‘Walking back from hockey with a friend,’ I said. The name of Marjorie Bagshaw was still taboo where Mother was concerned. I looked at Daddy. I didn’t want to go on.
‘I was talking to Miss Blessing,’ he said. ‘You know, Agnes, one of the people who took over from you at the harmonium. Her brother Eric has been trying to get an opening at Roebuck’s.’
I was watching Mother closely. Did her hand falter on the teapot? No. She responded, ‘Oh, I didn’t know she had a brother.’
It was news to me, too. I thought they had been talking about her sister going to Canada.
‘Yes, she does. He’d had his application rejected and wanted to find out why.’
Mother was looking at him intently now.
‘I told her to suggest he tries again next year. I wanted to give her some hope for him.’ Daddy smiled at me as he said this.
‘Too many poor young people without jobs,’ Mother murmured, half to herself. ‘What’s to become of them all?’
I had heard about this. It worried me that Elsie had left us very suddenly a few weeks ago. I said, ‘Will Elsie get another job, Mother?’
At this, Mother and Daddy both stiffened. ‘I wouldn’t spend time worrying about Elsie, Annie,’ Daddy said. ‘She’s only herself to blame.’
‘What for?’ I asked.
‘Because she’s no better than she should be,’ Mother put in quickly, addressing the tea cosy rather than me. I didn’t know what she meant, but it was clear I needed to drop it.
Elsie had always seemed all right to me, and I was sorry for her. I hoped she would have somewhere to go.
‘Don’t worry your head about Elsie,’ Daddy repeated, in a voice that said the subject was closed.
‘So will you try and find a job for Eric, then?’ I asked him.
‘Who?’
I stared at him. ‘Miss Blessing’s brother.’
‘Oh yes, Eric Blessing. Yes. Well, I’ll see what I can do.’
I wished Marjorie Bagshaw could hear this. Trust Daddy not to brag to us in the street about trying to help Eric Blessing. His good spirits came back after tea. He even played Pit with Beatrice and me and chortled as he called out, ‘Corner on Oats!’ and suchlike. I think he enjoyed the game more than me, actually, because I find it pretty boring trading in things like barley, flax, hay and stuff. When I asked Bea about the job thingummy afterwards, she said it wasn’t just Roebuck’s Biscuits in trouble; it was all over the country.
‘And what about Elsie, then?’ I asked. ‘Why did she leave if there’s no jobs?’
‘I’ve no idea,’ answered Beatrice, in the sort of offhand voice that made me think she had a pretty good idea, but wasn’t going to say.
‘Well I hope she’s all right,’ I said. ‘I know she made lumpy porridge but I liked her. I don’t see why she had to go.’ Then I took a deep breath and reminded Beatrice she had told me before that I was never to mention the name of Mildred Blessing at home.
‘Did I say that?’ She was sounding deliberately vague again.
‘You did, Bea. I thought it was strange. It was after that time when I thought I saw her outside – when I was in the—’
‘I know when it was,’ said Beatrice quickly. Like me, she hated any reference to my night in the cellar.
‘You said I wasn’t to mention her!’ I was staring at my sister. How could she have forgotten? I needed her to explain, but all she said was, ‘Well, you must have misunderstood.’
I hadn’t. But I thought it prudent to leave it at that. Besides, we urgently needed to work out our Plan. Beatrice had said yesterday she wanted us to ask for Nana to go to our cousins’ in Mountsorrel – but that was miles away in Leicestershire. I would never be able to see her, except when we visited for tea at Whitsun or something. Besides, I argued, Auntie Vera wouldn’t want as big a dog as Nana in her tidy house; she already had Spats and he was tiny in comparison. And weren’t they talking of moving to Southbourne? We’d never see her if they did that!