Dickie (Feeney Family Sagas Book 4)

by Sheelagh Kelly

  Sally docked the question. ‘No, I do, I think it’s awful! I made allowances for you and him not being married ’cause I thought you were in love with each other, but…’

  ‘How magnanimous of you!’ came Belle’s sarcastic retort.

  ‘But to do it coldly …’

  ‘There’s nothing cold about it!’

  ‘All these years you’ve had me thinking you loved him … I don’t know if I should stay here, now.’ Sally looked most offended.

  Belle was abrasive. ‘Don’t be stupid!’

  The maid narrowed her eyes. ‘You think I’m stupid ’cause I don’t believe in letting a man have his way with me before we’re wed?’

  ‘Of course I don’t! I admire you for sticking to your principles, but you know perfectly well that I have no intention of marrying and I see no reason why I should remain celibate just to have your prudish sanction. You’re as bad as Brian – in fact you’d make the perfect couple; the next time I see him I’ll suggest it!’

  ‘You said you weren’t going to see him again,’ taunted Sally.

  ‘Thank you for reminding me!’

  Sally was still dumbfounded by the revelation. She put her head to one side and looked at Belle closely. ‘What the doctor said about you and your uncle … is it true then?’

  Belle gave an outraged laugh. ‘For God’s sake!’

  ‘Well, you’ve just admitted to something I never thought possible, how do I know what you might descend to?’

  ‘You don’t!’ said Belle sharply. ‘Now goodnight!’

  ‘I’ll take your cup …’

  ‘Goodnight, Sally!’

  * * *

  During March, Belle saw nothing of the doctor; that surprised her, for after each of their previous disagreements Brian had always come creeping round to apologise. She supposed on this occasion their parting had been a little more final than the others; she had never actually told him before that it was finished … still, it was an odd sensation. She paused to wonder how she really felt about him, and came to the conclusion that though she did miss him quite badly some nights, she was glad it was over. None of the family were aware of it yet. Since the wedding, she had only seen them briefly, having so much work to do. She would see them for longer today though: it was Mothering Sunday and she was going to a church service and afterwards for luncheon at Peasholme. This latter thought spurred her into motion and Brian was shoved from her thoughts.

  ‘Sally! Where are my … oh, Freddie don’t creep up on me like that!’ She scooped him out of the way in her search for her gloves.

  ‘Where’re you off?’

  ‘I am going to church.’

  ‘What you off there for?’

  ‘Don’t make it sound like such a rare occasion in this house. I’m going because there’s a special service for Mothering Sunday when all the sons and daughters should be with their mothers – where are my gloves?’

  ‘I’d better get my coat then.’ Freddie turned.

  ‘Why would you be going?’ asked Belle carelessly, still searching. Then realising how thoughtless that remark had been, turned to him and said, ‘You always get restless in church, Freddie. I thought you could stay with Sally and then we’ll all go out this afternoon.’

  ‘But you just said all the sons and daughters should be with their mothers, so I should be with mine. I’ll get me coat.’ Before she could stop him he had run off.

  Belle slapped a hand to her forehead and waited for Freddie to return. ‘There’ll only be me and my mother there, none of the others … still, I don’t suppose it would harm for you to come to Peasholme afterwards.’ She sighed at the state of him and grabbed hold of his lapels to put him in order. ‘They won’t allow you into church looking like that. Look at you! Where’s that comb?’ Finding it, she scraped his hair forward over his brow and drew a parting, ignoring his complaints that the comb scratched. ‘You’ll be scratching even more if you continue to neglect your hair! And look at your neck for heaven’s sake! Go and wash it if you insist on coming with me.’ She pushed him at the door and went back to searching for her gloves.

  ‘I’ll tell our lasses to get ready an’ all,’ he shouted over his shoulder.

  ‘Oh no, Freddie … oh do if you must! And you can tell the others to get ready, too. If I’m to be lumbered with you three I might as well go the whole hog and let Sally spend the day at her mother’s.’

  * * *

  Not being churchgoers, Dickie and his wife had remained at home with his mother, who had not set foot in a church since Patrick’s funeral. By lunchtime it seemed as if the entire Feeney clan was congregated in the drawing room. There was Sonny with his sons and daughters, Nick with his son, Erin with her daughter … and Dusty with no one. She looked at them all and wondered if any of them guessed how much the sight hurt her. But then of course they wouldn’t; none of them knew the torment of childlessness.

  There followed presentations of bouquets – from Belle to Erin, Erin to her mother, Josie to Thomasin… Dusty prayed for the day to end. She tried to salve her pain in conversation, asking Sonny if his recent birthday had been something to celebrate or to forget – though, of course, not mentioning that he was forty-seven in the presence of his daughters.

  ‘Oh, a celebration definitely,’ replied her brother-in-law. ‘And thank you for the card – but I’m afraid it was wrongly addressed. It should have said J. P. Feeney, RA.’

  ‘Oh, Sonny, congratulations!’ beamed his mother. ‘And not before time too.’

  Dickie finished blowing his nose – he had caught Belle’s cold – and reached for his brother’s hand. ‘You’ve showed them, Son.’ He turned to Josie. ‘Did you get anything out o’ this, Jos?’

  ‘He tret us all to a new hat each,’ said his sister-in-law, and was immediately corrected by Sophie.

  ‘Mother, it’s not tret, it’s treated.’

  ‘A new hat?’ cried Dick. ‘Glory be to God, you were a bit extravagant there, weren’t ye, Son?’ In almost the same breath he pulled a face and looked at the others. ‘Christ, can someone tell me what that stink is? It’s been up my nose since this morning. I can smell it even with this blocked-up conk.’ Sonny got his own back. ‘If it’s been following you around then chances are it’s coming from you.’

  Dickie chastised him, adding the opinion that it was ‘bloody horrible’.

  For once Erin agreed, then suddenly realised that the smell emanated from her mother. ‘It’s you!’

  ‘I don’t know why you’re all kicking up such a fuss about a drop of embrocation,’ muttered Thomasin bad-temperedly.

  Erin clicked her tongue. ‘I knew there was something wrong with that leg! Why did ye not tell us before, ye naughty girl. Have ye been to the doctor?’

  ‘There’s no cure for old age,’ snapped Thomasin. ‘And I’ll thank you to stop patronising me, I am still your mother!’ Erin looked at the others and threw up her eyes. During the conversation that followed, Dickie sidled from the room with a mischievous glint to his eye. On his return he was carrying something.

  ‘Got a present for ye, Mam.’ He waved his grandmother’s walking stick which he had previously noticed tucked away in a cupboard in his bedroom. ‘Well, you’re beginning to sound like Grandma Fenton, ye might as well look like her, too.’ He folded her hand around the stick.

  The result was like an eruption of Mount Etna. ‘I’m damned if I’m using that!’ Thomasin hurled the stick at the window. Luckily it did not hit the pane head on and glanced off without damage, but this served to make Thomasin angrier than ever.

  ‘What’s all the stink about – if ye’ll pardon the pun,’ laughed Dickie. ‘Don’t I have a walking cane?’

  ‘Yours is to make you look like a dandy!’ retorted his mother. ‘This one’ll make me look like a cripple.’

  Dickie looked for Belle’s reaction to this but she didn’t bat an eyelid. He put his hands together and began to recite a child’s prayer. ‘I thank you angel dear tonight, for helping me in doi
ng right.’

  ‘You soft monkey!’ His mother’s face was still cross.

  He propped the walking cane in a corner. ‘Ah well, I’ll leave it here for when ye feel ye need it.’

  ‘The only need I’ll have for that is to lay it across your back!’

  Dickie leaned towards his sister and whispered, ‘At least I managed to provoke some sign of life.’

  Erin had to smile in agreement and tempted another outburst from her mother. ‘I’m sure the doctor must have something for the pain. Brian would have told you if you hadn’t kept it to yourself – where is Bri, anyway?’ she asked of her daughter. Brian, whose own mother was dead, often shared in this family occasion.

  Belle had been dreading this, but had never been one to shy away from the truth. ‘Brian and I are no longer together.’

  Erin gave a disappointed cry which drew the others’ attention. ‘But why?’ she asked. ‘When did this happen?’

  ‘A few weeks ago,’ replied Belle.

  ‘You never said anything before,’ scolded her mother.

  ‘I’ve barely seen you since Lol’s wedding,’ said Belle. ‘Besides, why should I have told you? It’s hardly of world importance.’

  ‘That poor man!’ keened Erin. ‘So, what have ye done to him, then?’

  ‘I’ve butchered him with an axe and melted him down in an acid bath.’ Her mother said there was no need to be clever. ‘Well, must I tell everyone my private affairs?’ demanded Belle. ‘Brian and I decided that the relationship could no longer continue and …’

  ‘I’ll bet it wasn’t Brian!’ interjected her mother. ‘He worshipped you. It must’ve been your fault. Was it the disagreement ye had at the wedding?’ Thomasin asked what disagreement. Erin informed her, ‘They had a row over the children – it’s all right, they’re not listening, they’re playing upstairs.’ She turned to Dickie. ‘I believe you were at the root of it.’

  ‘It was nothing to do with the children or Uncle Dick,’ said Belle flatly. ‘And it’s nothing to do with you, Mother or you, Nan. My life is my own and if I choose not to see Brian then that’s up to me.’

  ‘Well, I’m sure we’ll all miss him,’ said Erin and the others agreed. ‘He was such a nice fellow … like a member of the family.’ She looked at Belle coaxingly. ‘Oh, can’t ye make it up, darlin’? You must miss him too, surely?’

  ‘I don’t miss him at all,’ said Belle quickly – too quickly.

  A knowing smile twitched Erin’s lips. ‘Now don’t tell fibs. I’m sure ye’ll make it up with each other whatever it was.’

  Belle looked wearily at her grandmother who silently expressed condolence then moved her eyes back to Dusty whom she had been studying.

  Dusty sensed the attention, and fought to divert it, asking, ‘Have you found a home for the baby yet?’

  Belle answered, ‘Yes, as a matter of fact he goes tomorrow.’

  Dusty felt naked in her disappointment, felt their pity, smelt it above the overpowering stench of liniment… She stood up quickly and, not looking at anyone in particular, informed them, ‘Well, I think I’ll just go and wash my face before luncheon,’ and hurried from the room.

  Even outside in the hall, the family atmosphere was stifling, with children’s coats on the stand, children’s gloves on the radiator, a child’s wooden horse grinning at her … Dusty brought her hands up to her face and rubbed vigorously, trying to exorcise the frustration. The lifetime of childlessness had been bad enough in itself, but this uncertainty was ten times worse, not knowing if the children would be hers or not, not wanting to get too attached to them just in case … but failing. There was a little cough. Dusty jumped and removed her hands from her face to see Frederick standing before her, hands behind back. She sighed, then smiled and put out a gentle finger to flick his snub nose, saying nothing. Returning her affection Frederick brought his hand into view; it was holding a bunch of daffodils.

  He waited for praise. But his gift produced the opposite effect. ‘I thought you’d like ’em,’ he said with puzzled face, as Dusty’s eyes filled with tears. She was quick to drop into a squat and deliver a reassuring hug, though she could not speak for many seconds.

  Frederick allowed himself to be squashed for a moment, then pulled free. ‘D’you like ’em?’

  Dusty sat back on her heels and brushed her wet cheeks with a palm. ‘They’re beautiful,’ she told him with a sniffle. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘The girls are picking some an’ all,’ he told her. ‘But I wanted to get here first.’

  ‘That’s very good of…’ Dusty paused. ‘Fred, where did you get them from?’

  ‘Garden. Them two don’t know how to pick ’em properly, they’ve just picked heads.’

  ‘Oh no.’ Dusty put a hand to her mouth. ‘You shouldn’t have picked them from Mrs Feeney’s garden.’

  ‘Oh, it’s all right, I didn’t pick them from hers – there’s loads in that garden next door. Are you gonna put ’em in a vase like them in there?’ He gestured at the room she had just left, which was where he had got the idea.

  She hesitated, then bit her lip and laughed. ‘Yes, but we’d better find the girls before they pick too many.’

  The girls took little finding, Dusty had only to follow the trail of abandoned daffodil heads. She had intended to apologise to the owners of the decimated gardens but on seeing the extent of the damage, conscience was overthrown by cowardice. Grabbing the girls, she rushed back into the house.

  At Frederick’s insistence, two separate vases were sent for, ‘I’m not having theirs in with mine,’ and Dusty was begged to take them into the drawing room to put with the others. Holding the vases rather self-consciously she went in. On hearing that the daffodils were a gift from Fred and his sisters, the other women thought it very touching. Dusty looked more guilty than the culprits as she told Thomasin where the blooms had come from. ‘I think you might be getting a few complaints.’

  Belle took hold of Fred and shook him. ‘You naughty child!’

  ‘You brought flowers for your mother,’ he objected.

  ‘Bought them! Not stole them from someone else’s garden. For that you can scrub the step every morning this week.’

  ‘Why just me?’ he demanded. ‘Why not them?’

  ‘Because they’re too little to know better. They were just copying you. Now you can do as I told you or I’ll double the punishment.’

  ‘Don’t be too hard on him, Belle,’ entreated her aunt. ‘He was only thinking to bring me a gift.’

  Belle opposed her. ‘He has to be taught that stealing is wrong.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say it was stealing really,’ coaxed Dusty.

  ‘Well, I would, and as Freddie is in my charge I think I am capable of dealing with his punishment, thank you, Aunt.’

  Thomasin intervened. ‘I hope you haven’t picked any from my garden.’ The children said forlornly that they hadn’t. ‘Oh that’s all right then, I won’t have to smack any bottoms. Did anybody see you picking the flowers?’ Dusty told her she did not think so. Thomasin turned to Belle. ‘Well, it’s not so bad after all then, is it – and it was done with the best of intentions, Belle. The children were just trying to show us that they’d made up their minds about who they want as their new mother. Have you made your mind up yet?’

  Belle was annoyed at being coerced and showed it. ‘I don’t think it’s an appropriate time to discuss it.’

  “On the contrary,’ said her grandmother. ‘I can’t think of a more appropriate time than Mothering Sunday.’

  ‘You’re being sentimental, Nan,’ replied Belle. ‘You’re not seeing it from my point of view.’

  ‘What is your point of view?’ demanded Dickie. ‘Ye want the best for the children, don’t ye? Well, so do me and Dusty.’ He pulled his wife into his side.

  ‘I just don’t think we should be discussing this in front of you-know-who,’ said Belle.

  ‘It seems to me that you-know-who have already made their minds up,’ said Sonny.
‘It’s you who’s …’

  ‘Don’t think that by ganging up on me you’ll provoke a decision!’ warned Belle, then started exasperatedly at the collection of pleading faces and clicked her tongue. ‘What a family!’ Her eyes moved down to Frederick’s face. It was true, she couldn’t keep him and his sisters waiting forever. They spoke of nothing else but their new mother and father. After instructing them, ‘Go play in the garden,’ she told the gathering, ‘Look, I realise that you all have great difficulty in understanding how a cold-hearted woman like me can be doing such work, but just consider this: where were all the soft hearts when those children needed help?’ Her accusation hit home and several pairs of eyes were diverted; Belle had faced much opposition when setting up her home for waifs and strays. ‘Yes, it’s all too easy to say, “Oh, dear isn’t it a pity?”, but not so easy to translate that pity into action. Well, I don’t just offer sympathy, I do something about it. And I haven’t worked myself to death educating them, scrimped and saved to feed them, just to let them jaunt off to America with someone about whom I know precious little. Having said this … if things are still going as smoothly by the end of the month, then Fred and the girls can move in here and I’ll start drawing up contracts.’

  Whilst the others gasped their delight, Thomasin declared, ‘Well, I must say that’s awfully generous of you to let them live in my house, Belle.’ At her grand-daughter’s smile of penitence, she allowed herself to add her good wishes to her son and his wife.

  Dickie was cautious. ‘What’s so important about the end of the month? What difference can a week or so make?’

  ‘By that time I should have received the information I’ve been waiting for,’ said Belle. ‘I contacted a detective agency and asked them to investigate your business affairs.’ Her uncle looked aghast and his mother threw Belle a suitably reproving look. ‘Well, I had to make sure that you lead a pure life, Uncle, and that your finances are secure.’

  ‘The damned cheek of it!’ Dickie turned away and passed a worried look to his wife who made synchronous accusation. What hornet’s nest was this going to stir up? ‘Is it the Pinkertons?’ Belle said no and, after a moment or two came up with the name of the agency.