Dickie (Feeney Family Sagas Book 4)

by Sheelagh Kelly

  Later, when everything was peaceful, she made her terrible confession to Thomasin, who was the only one she felt able to confide in. ‘I tell myself it’s because of the worry over Dick, but it isn’t. The truth is I just didn’t know what to do. Isn’t that ridiculous! Fifty-three years of age, old enough to be a grandmother and I can’t control two small girls. I’m beginning to wonder… well, am I really fit for motherhood? Perhaps that’s why I could never have any of my own. I mean, Nature doesn’t often get things wrong, does she?’

  ‘Eh, deary me!’ Thomasin grabbed hold of her daughter- in-law’s hand. ‘Fancy getting in such a state after one little smack. I’m only surprised you’ve taken so long to get round to it, I could swing for that Julia myself sometimes. And just because you’re fifty-three doesn’t give you some sort of magical power over other first-time mothers; fifty-three or twenty you still have to learn the job. Is it that you’ve changed your mind about wanting them? Dusty shook her head emphatically. ‘Then that’s all that matters.’ Thomasin ended with the confident announcement, ‘You’ll manage, lass.’

  * * *

  A brick came through the window that night. The manservant was sent out to find the culprit but returned empty-handed. Belle surmised that it must be the result of either her suffrage campaign or her position on South Africa. Her mother was furious.

  ‘Yes, that’s the trouble, Belle! There could be any number of reasons for that brick being thrown. Ye have to make up your mind just who you’re going to help. And another thing! While you’re spouting your speeches the children are running riot through your grandmother’s house – not to mention the filthy habits of that cat. It isn’t fair that she should have to put up with this at her age. Ye said you were only going to be here a week and here you still are over a month later.’

  ‘I’m so sorry for the inconvenience!’ spat Belle. ‘I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I can find a place.’

  Overnight, of course, she realised that her mother was quite justified in her condemnation, and decided to look for a house of her own immediately after the morning’s lessons. As she came through the hall a delivery of mail fell onto the mat and she stooped to collect it. Lifting the first envelope she saw that the one underneath had been delivered to the wrong address. Joe Kettley was at the end of the driveway when she called him back. He apologised, then nodded at the boarded up window. ‘Someone been playing football?’ Belle grimaced and told him the cause. ‘So, I’m going to have to find somewhere else to live.’

  ‘There’s a house on my route for sale,’ said Joe at once. ‘Lovely place – I’ll take you to see it if you like, it’s only just round the corner.’

  Belle was about to say that if it were just round the corner she could find it herself, but then changed her mind. ‘Wait a moment, I’ll just get my cloak. It’s a bit cool this morning.’ When she saw the house, though, she laughed out loud. ‘You must think I’m a millionaire!’

  Joe was nonplussed. ‘Sorry … I just thought you’d need a lot of room with all your kids.’

  ‘Needing and being able to afford are two different things.’ She smiled. ‘But thanks anyway, it was very thoughtful.’ Seeing that the house was empty, she peered into one or two windows, nodding approval, before saying goodbye and returning to breakfast. When she laughingly told her table companions about the house, her grandmother immediately offered her the money. Belle refused point-blank. ‘We don’t even know how much it is yet – a fortune probably.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Thomasin. ‘Anything to get rid of you.’

  Belle laughed. ‘I’d like to oblige but I’d never be able to repay the loan.’

  ‘I don’t expect you too,’ replied Thomasin, adding the warning, ‘Before you open your mouth it’s not charity! Your grandfather left me to dispose of his belongings. You’re only getting your due.’

  Belle was firm. ‘No, thank you. I want no snide comments from Nick.’

  ‘Never mind Nick. He’s had a good whack out of me over the years while you were playing Miss Independent.’

  Belle nodded. ‘I’ll bet he has. I’ve never known Nick turn down the offer of money.’

  Thomasin regarded the sanctimonious expression. ‘Yes, and that’s why I like giving Nicholas things. Because I know I’ll never have it thrown back in my face.’

  Belle frowned.

  ‘Oh, I know you didn’t see it that way,’ accepted her grandmother. ‘But it might not harm you to see it from my point of view for once. Us old’uns like to spoil our grandchildren, Belle, and we wouldn’t offer what we couldn’t afford. It’s not charity for God’s sake.’

  Belle pondered over the amount of times she must have thrown her grandfather’s kindness back in his face, and wished she could reverse this. At last, she nodded and said, ‘Thanks, Nan. I accept your kind offer.’

  ‘Thank God for that,’ said Thomasin. ‘I thought I was going to be stuck with you forever. How long will it take to close the sale?’

  ‘I’ll tell them my family are desperate to see the back of me,’ replied Belle. ‘It’s vacant possession so it should only take a matter of days.’ She turned to Dusty. ‘Could I impose on your good nature again, Aunt, and ask you to help Sally look after the children later? I want to get the key and have a proper look.’

  Dusty smiled and said of course, but under that smile there was a tinge of worry. ‘Belle, what will happen to Freddie and the girls when you move?’

  Belle nibbled her lip, remembering the trauma of the last separation. ‘Yes, there’s a point.’ She leaned on the table. ‘Would you consider coming to stay with us? I’d appreciate the help and, thanks to my generous grandmother, there’ll be plenty of room.’

  It was not really what Dusty had been hoping for, but she told Belle that she would love to.

  By early September the house sale was completed. On Thursday, the day before Belle was to move in, her aunt, uncle and cousins were coming from Leeds to see the new house. At eight that morning, Feen was searching frantically through her dressing table drawers for some pins with which to shorten a new petticoat that should have been done several days ago; her mother would be furious if it still showed beneath her skirts. Finding an empty pincushion, she racked her brain over where all the pins could be. Then she remembered the voodoo doll tucked away at the back of the wardrobe. Finding it, she pulled out all the pins and with a quick moulding of her hands reduced the doll to a ball of plasticine and tossed it in the waste bin. By ten the petticoat was a more suitable length. Feen climbed into the carriage and set off with her family to York.

  When they arrived they were met with the news that Dusty had been taken ill with stomach pains shortly after breakfast and was lying down upstairs. Shortly after breakfast! An immediate sense of foreboding overtook Feen – that would have been the time she removed the pins from the voodoo doll. What was she going to do?

  No one else seemed unduly concerned, and all went off to be shown around Belle’s new residence. However, when they came back for luncheon, the maid informed them that Mr Richard’s wife was still incapacitated and seemed to be getting worse. Erin’s visit to her sister-in-law’s room terminated abruptly when she saw how bad Dusty was. She rushed downstairs, saying that they must send for the doctor. Whilst someone did this, Belle and Erin went back to sit with the patient.

  Dusty’s face was almost grey with pain. Her legs were drawn up and she kept rolling from side to side in an effort to seek comfort. Waiting for the doctor to arrive, Belle grew more worried. She had seen someone like this before.

  The doctor was concerned, too. After examining Dusty, he pronounced that she must be sent to hospital straight away. Thomasin showed her concern and asked couldn’t Dusty be treated here. Several people of her acquaintance had gone into hospital and never come out again. But the doctor was insistent that if it was what he feared then delay could be dangerous. ‘There’s a lot of tenderness there, but she can’t tell me exactly where the pain is,’ he murmured to those g
athered on the landing. ‘I fear it may be appendicitis.’

  Appendicitis. It was as Belle had feared. Many years ago she had seen a tiny child with this illness. The child had died. ‘We have to send for Uncle Dickie,’ she told her mother after Dusty had been taken to hospital groaning and writhing and the evening had seen no change. ‘I’m going to send a cablegram.’

  Erin agreed and looked around at the gathering – Sonny’s family had stayed behind to await news of Dusty. ‘I’m off to church now. See you all when I get back.’

  ‘Aunt Erin!’ Feen came running into the hall after her and whispered, ‘Can I come with you?’

  Erin looked most surprised, but said that she could indeed. And Feen went off to pay penance, desperately hoping that her prayers would counter the evil influence of the voodoo doll.

  21

  On receipt of the urgent message at his hotel – Wife ill, return immediately – Dickie did not even bother to pack a bag, but jumped on the first available ferry. Halfway across the Channel, though, he began to wonder if this could be a ploy of Nettleton’s to lure him back to earth. This thought gnawed at him for the rest of the journey and when the ferry reached Dover he was in two minds whether to turn round and go straight back to France. But the thought of Dusty was stronger bait

  It was dark when he arrived at Peasholme. ‘Where is she?’ He burst in upon his mother and sister who were the only ones in the drawing room, Belle having moved and the others gone back to Leeds.

  ‘Dickie!’ His mother used her stick to lever herself up and came towards him, smiling. ‘Don’t worry, she’s all right. She’s been in hospital but she’s right as rain now and she’s coming home tomorrow.’

  ‘Hospital!’ After kissing his mother, Dickie sat down, rubbing his tired eyes.

  Erin told him about the stomach pains. ‘The doctor thought it was appendicitis, but when she got to hospital they couldn’t find anything wrong with her. The pains went as quickly as they’d come.’

  Dickie lost his temper, unleashing all the pent-up worry. ‘So I’ve come hundreds of miles, risked my neck to find that there’s nothing bloody wrong with her!’

  Thomasin demanded. ‘Well, would you rather it had been something serious?’

  His expression was black. ‘I’ll bet it was just one of her bloody tricks to get me back here, wasn’t it?’ His mother asked what on earth he was talking about. ‘The message, she sent it herself, didn’t she?’

  ‘She was in no fit state to know what day it was,’ snapped Thomasin. ‘Let alone send cablegrams. Don’t be so blasted silly. You want to be thankful she’s all right instead of accusing her of trickery.’

  Dickie was not to be reassured. ‘Ah, you’re all in it together! I’m sick of the lot o’ yese. First thing tomorrow I’m off back to France.’

  ‘Aren’t you even going to wait and see Dusty!’

  ‘No.’ His chin jutted out like that of a thwarted child.

  ‘But she knows you’re coming,’ said his sister. ‘While she was poorly Belle told her she’d sent for you.’

  ‘I’ll think about it tomorrow. Right now I need some sleep. Can I have a room for the night?’

  Thomasin asked Erin to sort one out for him, telling her later, ‘It’s only because of the worry. He’ll calm down in the morning.’

  On Saturday morning Dickie had calmed down, but was no less resolute about going back to France. His mother tried to persuade him to wait and see Dusty, but he refused, saying that there was a train to London in an hour and he intended to be on it.

  ‘And what have ye done with Sonny’s car?’ demanded Erin. ‘He’s had to fall back on the carriage and pair.’

  Her brother told her he had sold it down in London. ‘I needed the cash till I could wire home for some – tell Son he can have the Daimler with my compliments.’

  ‘That’s very generous considering the blasted thing hardly ever goes.’ Erin seized the paper and read in silence for a while, before exclaiming, ‘Oh dear … your President McKinley’s been shot.’

  Dick was brusque. ‘Well, don’t try to pin that one on me. I was here all night, remember.’ He drained his cup. ‘Right, I’ll be going.’

  Erin crumpled the paper. ‘Aren’t you even interested to know where the children are?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘I’ll tell you anyway.’ Erin wrote the address on a card and gave it to him. ‘Belle’s bought a new house. Dusty’s going to stay with her and help look after them.’

  ‘I’m sure she’ll be happy now that she’s got what she always wanted.’ Dick tucked the card in his pocket without looking at it and bent to kiss his mother. She asked anxiously when they would see him again. He jammed his hat on, replying that he didn’t know. ‘So long.’

  * * *

  The drought that had shrivelled September ran into another month. Set between two rivers, York suffered less than its neighbours, but there were small irritations such as the shortage of milk which to Belle with her houseful of children was more like a major catastrophe. Dusty continued to live here, her days very full with organising the children, helping with lessons, marking books. Over the months she had grown used to their idiosyncrasies, had learnt that one did not rule by granting every wish but by standing firm. Belle admired the change in her aunt and said that she was welcome to live here permanently if she so desired. When Dusty had taken this lightly, Belle added, ‘I’m perfectly serious. Uncle Dickie isn’t likely to be back now, is he?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous! Of course he’ll be back.’

  Seated at her davenport marking books, Belle didn’t look up. ‘But he’s been away months without a word.’

  ‘He’ll be back,’ replied her aunt with certainty.

  Belle pitied her. ‘Well, as I said, you’re welcome to stay for as long as you like. I’m glad of the help.’ She put one book aside and rippled the pages of another. ‘There’ll be a new girl coming tomorrow; a little prostitute. Yes, I know – it’s disgusting, isn’t it? She’s been beaten, too.’

  Dusty remarked that the children were fortunate to have someone like Belle who would sacrifice a brilliant academic career in order to devote her life to helping them.

  Belle lifted one corner of her mouth, still ticking the pages. ‘I’m no saint, Aunt. Believe me, it was small sacrifice. I always hated learning for learning’s sake – though I do enjoy passing my knowledge to the children if it can free them from the ghettoes. I don’t particularly do it because I like them but because it has to be done.’ She paused and leaned on the davenport. ‘Sometimes I look at them and I hate them for their suffering – can you understand that?’ Dusty nodded. Now that Dick was out of play she had taken the trouble to know Belle more intimately. There were still things about her that she did not care for, but she was now more willing to recognise Belle’s strengths.

  ‘There are times when I wish I could turn my back on them, but I can’t. The trouble is,’ Belle looked despairing, ‘there’s too much of it going on and I can’t help everybody. It makes me feel so useless … Oh dear, how very maudlin!’ She laughed and closed the book she had been marking. ‘Come on, we’d better get those fireworks over to Peasholme.’ She had intended to have a display here and had invited her mother and Grandmother, but with the cold foggy days of November the latter’s rheumatism had flared up again and she had asked Belle if the party could take place at Peasholme where a lot of garden rubbish needed burning.

  Sally was given the evening off. Belle, her aunt and the children arrived at Peasholme around seven, bearing boxes of fireworks. When all were gathered, the manservant was instructed to torch the bonfire. Spitting and crackling, it roared to full flame, illuminating joyous faces, sparks dancing up into the black night. His eyes watery from the smoke, Sonny shared the whoops of delight at the squibs and roman candles, but as always on November the fifth he remembered his daughter Rosanna, whose thirtieth birthday it would have been. He looked at his frail little mother, wondering whether now was the right
time to tell her about Timothy Rabb – Dickie wasn’t likely to do it, was he? Mind made up, he weaved his way through the haze of saltpetre, and amid all that laughter unburdened himself of his father’s last message.

  Erin had worked her way round to Dusty. ‘I nearly called in this morning on my way to church, but I thought better of it.’ Dusty said yes, breakfast could be rather chaotic at Belle’s. ‘I waved to her but she was too busy talking to the postman. He must’ve been in for a cup of tea, had he?’

  Dusty called, ‘Julia! Don’t get too close to the fire – sorry, Erin, I didn’t catch that.’

  Erin patted her gloved hands and bounced from foot to foot. ‘The postman. I mentioned to Mother that I’d seen him coming out of Belle’s. She said he’d probably been in for a cup of tea.’

  Dusty nodded, but did not verify this.

  Erin shook her head. ‘That daughter of mine, no thought for her reputation. Whatever must people think?’

  Dusty cried, ‘Oh dear, look at Fred! I’ll have to go stop him, Erin, excuse me.’

  Erin searched the firelit garden for her daughter. Finding her on the other side of the bonfire, she asked Belle to fetch some butter from the kitchen for the potatoes that were roasting in the fire.

  Butter in hand, Belle laughed as her trip back up the kitchen stairs coincided with her mother’s downwards flight.

  ‘I forgot to ask you to bring some napkins,’ said Erin, going to a drawer. ‘Hang on, I’ll walk back with you.’ She pulled out several drawers, searching. ‘How are things between you and Aunt Dusty?’

  Belle sat down to wait. ‘Oh, fine. I was just saying this morning that she’s welcome to stay if Uncle Dickie doesn’t come back.’

  ‘That was rather tactless, Belle.’ Erin opened yet another drawer.

  ‘Mother, she’s had no letter from him in months.’