After a long tearful hug, Thomasin breathed deeply and moved away. ‘At least he’s out of his pain, Fran.’ She sat down. Francis unbuttoned his frockcoat and sat down too. ‘But d’you know,’ she looked bewildered, ‘I still can’t believe he’s gone. It hasn’t really hit me yet. Every time I open a door I expect to see him sitting there …’ She remembered her news then and the wrinkles of anguish dispersed. ‘By the way, Dickie’s home.’
The cadaverous face became alert. ‘Did he arrive in time?’ On receiving a smiling nod, he relaxed. ‘Oh good, I’m so glad. Oh dear … what a business. I can’t quite believe it either. I shall miss him.’
Thomasin’s breast rose and she changed the subject to prevent another display of tears. ‘Ah well … I suppose it won’t be that long to dinner – you’re staying? We’d better go and join the others then. I’ll introduce you to my son.’ Before she could even rise, however, the maid came in looking most agitated. ‘Ah, Vinnie, I hope Mrs Howgego hasn’t gone to a lot of trouble over the meal. I just don’t feel like ploughing through …’
‘I’m sorry, ma’am,’ interrupted Vinnie. ‘But dinner isn’t quite ready yet.’ Before her mistress could say that it didn’t matter, a round-eyed Vinnie blurted out, ‘Mrs Howgego, she’s passed on, ma’am!’ and ferreted in her apron pocket for a handkerchief. ‘She just opened her eyes an’ said, “Ooh, Vinnie, I feel sorta funny …” an’ went just like that.’ She blew her nose and wiped her eyes. ‘I am sorry for tellin’ yer like this, ma’am, what with the master an’ all…’
Thomasin flopped back into her chair and played absently with the braiding on her mourning gown. ‘No … that’s all right, Vinnie, calm down.’ She fought to clear her mind, then said, ‘Er, send John for the doctor, he’ll have to certify that Mrs Howgego’s dead.’
‘Yes’m – but what about dinner?’
Thomasin wanted to laugh at the maid’s priorities, but restrained herself to grant an impromptu promotion, telling Vinnie to hire herself a girl, as she herself did not feel up to interviews. Upset as she was over the cook’s demise, Vinnie was enormously compensated by this rise in status and said for her mistress not to give it another thought.
When the new cook had left, Thomasin looked morbidly at Francis. ‘Well, that’s two gone. I wonder who’ll be the third. There’s only me an’ thee the right age to qualify, which of us is it going to be?’ She shivered. Francis hobbled to her chair and helped her to rise, saying with a pat of her hand, that she was far too young. ‘I might have agreed with you last week,’ came her apathetic sigh. ‘Now I don’t really care. He’s only been gone a matter of hours, Fran, and if I miss him this much already what am I going to be like in the years to come?’
‘It will pass, my dear,’ he comforted. ‘Believe me – and do stop all this talk about popping off. I wager five shillings that I’ll beat you to it.’
Thomasin forced a weak smile and matched her pace with his. ‘The trouble is, if you’re right you won’t be around to collect your winnings, will you?’
Rejoining the others, she told them of the latest catastrophe. Sonny promised that he would attend to Mrs Howgego’s funeral. ‘Right, thanks, love. But don’t make it the same morning as your father’s, else it’ll be a bit of a farce, us hopping from one church to t’other … Now, Francis, I want you to meet my son, Dickie.’
The two shook hands and Francis offered his sympathies to all present. Dickie mistook the urbane manners for effeminacy and, once the link was broken, he paid scant regard to the visitor, dismissing him as an old pouf. He wasted neither charm nor energy on the male sex unless they were going to be useful to him. Francis, however, spent a good deal of time weighing up the handsome man who was now lighting a cigarette at the fireplace. Patrick’s last request to Francis had been for him to look after Thomasin. Her son had hurt her many times in the past … Francis wanted to make certain that he didn’t do so again.
The manservant, still flushed from his dash to the physician’s house, announced that dinner was served, such as it was. Thomasin summoned everyone to the dining room where they gathered round the large table, fully laid out with china, crystal and gleaming cutlery, though there was little enthusiasm for its use.
By way of escaping from the miserable group, Dusty reminded her husband that they had left a trunk in the car. At which, both excused themselves to go and unpack it, declining Thomasin’s offer that Vinnie could do it later. After telling the manservant to put the trunk on the bed and waiting for him to leave, Dickie asked his wife, ‘D’ye think it’s tactless to give them the presents we’ve brought?’
‘The presents you’ve brought,’ corrected Dusty and paused before a mirror to examine her black-clad reflection. How fortunate that she had included this dress in her packing – she hardly ever wore black; Dickie preferred to see her in bright colours. ‘And it wasn’t exactly diplomatic to bring your father a bottle of bourbon, was it?’ She pulled off her elbow-length gloves and laid them on the dressing table.
‘He would’ve appreciated it,’ argued Dickie, who unlocked the trunk an threw the lid back. ‘He always liked his whisky.’
‘Yes, well, I wouldn’t mention that to your mother if I were you,’ Dusty advised, then wandered over to the cast-iron fireplace and stared into the flames. ‘Still, I don’t suppose it’ll hurt to give the rest of them their presents. I hope the girls like theirs … it doesn’t seem much to bring them somehow.’
‘Aye, ye may be right. Those brooches’re a bit dainty for a big stag of a lass like Liz.’
‘I didn’t mean it that way!’
‘That chest o’ hers needs something more impressive to adorn it. Tell ye what, I’ll slip the spare tyre off the car, that’s more her size.’
‘Don’t be so derogatory! I think I’ll ask Josie if I can take them out and buy them a little treat. They’re very upset over their grandfather.’
Dickie laughed at the mention of his sister-in-law. ‘Good old Josie. I don’t know about jewellery – we shoulda brought her a couple o’ beefsteaks. I’m sure she really thinks I mean it when I snuggle up to her. Christ, the size of her – if she fell on ye she’d kill ye.’ His wife said he shouldn’t tease so. He noticed her brushing some mud off the hem of a skirt and demanded to know what she was doing. She told him she dared not give it to the maid for fear of upsetting Erin. ‘Gimme that here!’ He dumped it on the landing with his muddy boots. ‘I’m not having my wife doing that.’ On slamming the door, he asked, ‘Will ye be taking Paddy on this outing, then? If y’are, I’ll come with yese.’
Dusty smiled and came away from the fire to link his arm. ‘You like him, don’t you?’
The grin spread to his eyes. ‘Aye, he’s a fine wee fella. I could quite easily slip him into this trunk an’ take him home with me.’
Face thoughtful, Dusty began to lift items out of the trunk, draping them over the foot of the bed. ‘Might there be room in it for any more?’ He asked what she meant. ‘Your mother was saying … well, we were talking about children and … well, you know Erin’s daughter has a houseful of them …’ She turned to him hesitantly.
He guessed. ‘She has one she wants to get rid of.’
‘Aw, don’t say it like that, Dickie!’ She punched him and started to remove things from the trunk more rapidly. ‘Anyway, it’s not one … it’s three.’
‘Christ!’ He had recovered his balance after her hefty push but now looked ready to collapse from shock.
‘We did agree!’
‘On one, yes, but three’s a bit…’ He clamped a hand to his dazed brow.
‘Dickie, you promised!’
‘You always say that. It’s funny I can never remember makin’ these promises.’
‘Only because you choose not to!’ She grabbed two fistfuls of silk gowns and marched to the wardrobe to hang them up.
Dickie flopped onto the bed beside the trunk and watched her pounding angrily backwards and forwards for a moment. Then he gave a sigh of surrender. ‘Oh, co
me on then! Tell me all about ’em.’
She grinned in triumph and clutched a gown to her small bosom, speaking elatedly. ‘I hardly know anything. Your mother just said that Belle thought they needed proper parents.’
His own smile was sceptical. ‘An’ my mother thought I’d make a proper parent, did she?’
‘You know full well she didn’t!’ Dusty grew angry again and rammed a hanger into the shoulders of the gown. ‘What reason have you ever given her or any of your family to make them regard you as a responsible adult?’ The hanger was hooked noisily over the rail and the door closed. ‘But you are going to be one, aren’t you, Dickie.’ Her eyes drilled him.
He tried to defy her glare, looking instead around the modernly furnished room with its bird of paradise wallpaper and chintz curtains, but was soon compelled to face her. She wanted these kids so much … After the briefest resistance he gave a snorting laugh at his own weakness, and nodded.
With that one gesture all anger was dispelled. She hoisted her shoulders in gladness and went to hug his head to her chest. ‘I thought I might ask your mother if we can go and meet them as soon as possible.’
He linked his hands in the small of her back, pulling her between his legs and nuzzling her enthusiastically. ‘Ye mean before Belle gets back?’ He spoke into her breast.
She picked thoughtfully at a strand of his hair. I’m not proposing anything underhand, but Belle won’t let them go to just anybody, she’s got to be sure they’re in good hands. If we can get to know them before she comes back and she sees how well we get on with them …’ She gave his face a gentle shove with her chest. ‘Will you stop that, you’re making my dress all damp.’
He lifted his face, but continued to rest his chin on her breastbone. ‘An’ what happens if they’re right little … scallywags? I’m not putting up with any truck, ye know. Anyway,’ his mouth acquired a sulk, ‘they might not like me.’
‘Tut! How could anybody not like you?’ She squashed his cheeks between playful hands and kissed him, dancing away before he got too responsive. ‘Can I ask your mother, then?’
He sighed at being thwarted in his desires, then thought for a while, looking into her eager face. This visit had been intended as a holiday; his father’s death was a big enough bombshell, but to be told he was about to be made a father – and to three at once! It took some digesting. Nevertheless he nodded, kissed her, then lay back on the thick lace bedspread, pulling her on top of him. ‘You ask an’ I’ll obey… if you pay me the same honour.’ His face cracked in a puckish grin.
‘We’re meant to be unpacking the trunk,’ she scolded, but now that she had what she wanted, no longer tried to escape.
‘Stuff the trunk.’ He tucked a hand under the lid and flipped it shut, then dragged her into a more comfortable position, whence a long passionate kiss ensued. When he drew breath he began to undo the buttons that ran all the way down her spine. ‘Ye know,’ he tasted her again, speaking into her mouth, ‘these dressmakers must be right frigid biddies. All these buttons, they’re a sod to undo when you’re rarin’ to go. Oh God, stand up!’ His wife chuckled as he pushed her to her feet and spun her around to manage the buttons. ‘I hate to see ye in black, anyways. All them lovely clothes ye brought…’
‘I can hardly wear them now, can I?’ When he had finished undoing her she moved away to peel off the gown.
Dickie shed his boots and stockings, then his borrowed jacket, tossing it anywhere. His wife was down to her underskirts which she delayed removing to say guiltily, ‘We shouldn’t really be doing this. Your father …’
Dickie unfastened one gold cufflink and laid it on the table, his gaze never leaving her. He did not answer, no you’re right we shouldn’t, but stroked her body with his eyes and murmured sensuously, ‘Just get your hair down, lady.’
Dusty’s fingers sought between the curls for her hairpins and one by one unpicked them. Her hair was not the kind which performed a romantic cascade to her shoulders, but rather descended in an untidy clump and had to be manually shaken into order. But from the look in Dickie’s eyes that was no deterrent.
He had loosened his black tie and collar stud. Dusty felt overwhelmed by her passion for him. A passion which had remained constant throughout the twenty-six years of marriage. Approaching middle-age, she had expected it to cool; but her summer years had turned to autumn and still it ran as fiercely as ever through her veins. Stepping from her petticoats, she pulled at the ribbons on her camisole and took it off. There were no corsets to struggle over; Dusty’s slim figure needed no restraint. Her husband savoured the body that was almost the same as when he had first looked upon it, unblemished by childbirth. He had seen bodies half that age which could not stand comparison … But then maybe that was because he loved her so very much. At this moment his love was suffocating.
With a flourish his shirt was off and he stood to embrace her, pressing her belly to his and burying his face in her silver hair so that his words were muffled. ‘Dusty, I don’t know what I’d ever do if I lost you.’ The embrace was so tight she could hardly breathe. She knew that half of his intensity stemmed from fear, fear of his own mortal span. But it didn’t matter. When the last obstacle to their union had been removed, they fell on the bed and all thoughts of death were obliterated.
* * *
The tread of people on the stairs roused them into dressing. A shared look at Dickie’s watch told them it was past the younger children’s bedtime and so, bearing the gifts, they went down to rejoin the family.
Being adults, Elizabeth and Sophia had not yet gone to bed. Their aunt prefaced the distribution of gifts with an apology. ‘It’s not much … just a little token. If it’s all right with your mother I’d like to take you out for a shopping trip tomorrow and buy you something more substantial. It’s so nice to be here with you all.’ She looked at Josie who in turn looked uneasily at her mother-in-law.
Thomasin sensed what was wrong. ‘I don’t expect you all to sit moping, you know. You go out and have a good spend. I might even come with you – if I should get invited, that is. Away, Dickie!’ She injected her voice with liveliness for the other’s sake. ‘Are we going to see what you’ve brought us?’
Her son began to hand out the gifts, which provided a light moment as each pondered over the shape of the wrapping and tried to anticipate what on earth it could be. The unveiling complete, Thomasin held a statuette of ‘Uncle Sam’, Sonny an alabaster eagle and Josie a turquoise necklace. ‘Is there meant to be some significance in this?’ asked Erin tartly, studying the automaton they had brought her – a grizzly bear which, when activated, bared its teeth and swiped the air with its paws.
‘Dickie, you’ve given her the wrong one!’ Dusty snickered behind her hand.
‘Have I?’ His face was a mask of innocence. ‘Oh sorry, that was for Paddy. Ah, this must be yours, Erin.’ He swapped the automaton for an inlaid box.
‘You did that on purpose,’ scolded Dusty in a private aside.
‘I decided it was rather more apt than the box,’ chuckled Dickie. ‘Grizzly old bugger that she is.’
Composing her face, Dusty tried to repair the damage. ‘We’ve brought something for Belle too,’ she told Erin. ‘A turquoise brooch. I hope she likes it.’
‘Belle rarely wears jewellery,’ replied her sister-in-law. ‘But I dare say she’ll appreciate the thought.’
Dusty looked unhappily at her husband and said, ‘Oh dear … maybe we could buy her something more suitable while we’re in York.’
‘I hardly see the point in that,’ retorted Dickie. ‘I bought these things ’cause they’d been made in America.’
‘I might’ve known you’d bought them.’ Erin eyed the collection of gifts which were rather tasteless in style.
Dickie took offence. ‘Hey! I spent a load o’ money on those.’
Thomasin intervened. ‘And they’re very much appreciated, dear,’ she said firmly, then went around the room seeking a suitable niche for Uncle Sa
m. At last she seized a fine porcelain vase, shoved it into a cupboard and put the statuette in its place. ‘There! It was made for that corner.’
Sonny agreed and thanked his brother once again for the eagle. He wrapped it up. ‘I’ll put it somewhere Paddy can’t get his mitts on it.’
Erin sniffed. Later, she was brought to book for her disparaging reception of the gifts. Thomasin, on her way from the bathroom, encountered her on the landing and took hold of her daughter’s arm. ‘Ah, I want you! Come in here a minute.’ She led her into a bedroom and closed the door, expression stern. ‘Now then, I won’t mince words …’
‘As if you ever do,’ muttered Erin, finishing off an acid drop given to her by one of the girls.
‘You’re to stop all these constant digs and pokes. If you want a fight with our Dickie than go out and have one, but for God’s sake get it over and done with. I know how you feel about him coming back …’
Erin gulped down the sliver of acid drop and said angrily, ‘It’s not just him coming back! It’s everything he did before he went, what he did to you an’ Dad.’
‘Never mind me and your father! If I’ve got any punishment to dole out I’m quite capable of doing it myself. And if you’re that concerned about my feelings you’ll stop treating him like you are doing; it doesn’t help me, you know.’
Erin was unrepentant and gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Marvellous, isn’t it? Twenty-six years he’s been away yet he gets welcomed back with open arms while I get the tongue-lashing for being nasty to the poor little mite!’
Thomasin reached out. ‘Erin, I understand your …’
‘No ye don’t!’ Erin’s lips tightened over her outburst. It was no use putting voice to all the things she felt about Dickie; Mother would still find an explanation in his favour.
‘No … you’re right, I don’t.’ Thomasin shook her head in defeat, the white plait slipping off her shoulder to dangle between her shoulderblades. ‘You’ve probably got good reason for your anger, but I wish you’d go about it more honestly.’
Dickie (Feeney Family Sagas Book 4) Page 9