Hidden Currents

by Rowena Summers

  ‘Pity he couldn’t have taken us all with him,’ Elsie scowled as they headed up the steep hill towards the house.

  ‘I wouldn’t want to go,’ Carrie said, shivering.

  ‘That’s because you ain’t got no adventure in your soul. There’s more to life than a piddling little tripping boat like your John Travis has got!’ she crowed.

  Carrie felt her heart lurch. She’d tried to keep Elsie’s mind off the old man they’d just buried, and somehow they’d reverted to their usual arguments, even if it was more subdued than some. But mention of John had been sudden and unexpected, and she felt her face flush.

  ‘I suppose he thinks you’ve gone up in the world now you’re at your new place,’ Elsie said cattily. ‘Does he come calling there?’

  Carrie was saved the embarrassment of answering by Ma’s sudden cry of pain, and the sight of her leaning against their front door. She rushed to help her, and was immediately brushed away by Pa.

  ‘I’m all right, all of you! It was just a twinge, no more, and it caught me off-balance, but I’ll be mighty thankful when this babby decides to make its appearance.’

  It was almost the first time she’d said any such thing, and Carrie resolved to call on Doctor Flowers herself and ask his opinion of the too-frequent occurrences of what her mother called her twinges. She’d been a small girl when her Ma was expecting Billy, but she could never remember anything like this. She only remembered Ma sunny and smiling and telling her she was soon going to have a brother or sister to play with.

  ‘You girls see to the tea-making,’ Pa ordered as soon as they were all inside. ‘It will do Elsie good to keep her hands occupied, and I’ll see that Ma gets out of these wet clothes and has a lie down.’

  ‘I’m not having a lie down in the middle of the day,’ she said at once, but she was outnumbered by the rest of them and went protestingly up the stairs with Pa following.

  Carrie and Elsie looked at one another. They were damp too, but the house was warm with the stove that was kept burning constantly, and they went into the scullery together. Wilf saw to pulling off Billy’s boots and rubbing him down with a towel.

  ‘It wasn’t much of a send-off for your granpa, was it, Elsie?’ Carrie said, awkwardly remembering why they were all together, and guiltily wishing the time would pass so she could get back to the comparative calm of Clifton.

  Elsie shrugged. ‘He wouldn’t have expected nothing more,’ she said. ‘And at least he’s planted now, so there’s nothing else to be done for him.’

  ‘You did your best while he was alive, anyway,’ Carrie said. ‘He’d have been in a sorry state without you to look after him.’

  She turned to pour the simmering water from the big black kettle into the tea-pot and swirl it round before adding some of the precious tea. To her astonishment she heard Elsie give a harsh laugh.

  ‘He was always in a sorry state, whether I was there or not! I don’t want to talk about him no more, Carrie, so don’t go thinking you’ve got to dredge up the good old times we had, because there weren’t none to speak of. He’s dead and gone now, and that’s the end of it.’

  Carrie was shocked at this callous statement, even from Elsie. ‘But don’t you want to talk about him at all? Most folk do, after a burying.’

  ‘Well, I don’t.’ Elsie reached for the crockery from the cupboard and slapped the cups and saucers down on the scrubbed table. ‘He’s gone, and that’s that. I’ve done me cryin’, and I’ve got to think of meself from now on.’

  Carrie looked at her, uncertain what to make of this defiance. It could be genuine and unfeeling, or it could hide real grief … with Elsie, you never quite knew … but when she spoke again she was almost glib.

  ‘The best thing I can do is find meself a fellow to take care of me now, wouldn’t you say? I’m quite a catch now, with me own cottage and no dependants.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ Carrie said slowly, though how anybody could call Elsie’s miserable little hovel a ‘catch’, she couldn’t imagine.

  ‘And if I don’t have a cup of this bleedin’ tea soon, I’m going to be as parched as a desert,’ Elsie went on brightly. ‘I’ll take one in for your Wilf, shall I?’

  She gave a brilliant smile, and Carrie caught her breath. If Elsie thought the fellow who was going to take care of her was Wilf Stuckey, she had another think coming. It would send Elsie into deep depression to be rejected as thoroughly as Carrie knew only Wilf could, and she prayed that Elsie wouldn’t be too blatant while she stayed here.

  ‘I’ll take one up to Ma,’ she said quickly, knowing the time was going on, and she’d have to leave soon. She poured out the tea and hurried upstairs, leaving the rest of them to sort themselves out.

  Ma looked somewhat better now, lying on the bed she shared with Pa, and with him rubbing her hands to get some life back into them. She had removed her outer clothes, and had the coverlet over her, and she struggled to sit up when she saw the welcome cup of tea. Pa left them to it, to go stumping down the stairs, awkward at any show of illness.

  ‘This is just what the doctor ordered,’ Ma said. ‘You’re a good girl, Carrie, but don’t you go staying too long and upset Miss Barclay, now.’

  ‘You’re more important to me than Miss Barclay.’

  ‘But your wages are important to all of us,’ Ma said quietly, now that Pa was out of the room. ‘These little upsets happen now and then, but ’tis nothing to be alarmed about. Ten minutes’ rest, and I’ll be right as rain again.’

  ‘Do you take ten minutes’ rest now and again, Ma?’ Carrie said carefully.

  ‘Of course I do. I know it’s necessary, and when you’ve gone downstairs I’m just going to shut my eyes. Elsie’s here now, and I daresay she’ll give a hand now and then. It’ll give the girl summat to do to take her mind off her troubles.’

  Carrie was too anxious about Ma to feel any jealousy at her words. But she didn’t hold out too much hope for Elsie’s home-making capabilities. She’d never done much for her granpa in the way of cooking nourishing meals or keeping the place clean and tidy.

  Elsie was too slap-dash by half, but if Ma thought she was going to be a help, she wouldn’t disillusion her. And why shouldn’t she pay her way while she was here? She tried to put it tactfully to the girl before she left.

  ‘You’ll be better for not being alone just now, Elsie, and I’m glad to know Ma has another female in the house. I know she’ll be thankful for any help you can give her.’

  ‘Oh ah, though I can’t say I relish the idea of being a skivvy like you.’

  ‘I didn’t mean —’

  ‘I know what you meant, and I promise I’ll not see her slaving on my account while I’m here,’ Elsie said crossly. ‘But I’m not staying above a day or two. I’ve got me own place, and me job to pay the rent, so don’t go thinking I’m prepared to take on your place here, Carrie.’

  ‘I’m glad to know it,’ Carrie was stung to retort. ‘There’s only one daughter in this family.’

  She bit her lip. It was an insensitive thing to say, but Elsie always managed to bring out the worst in her, and she didn’t seem to notice the barb. She gave a faint smile.

  ‘There’s daughters-in-law though,’ she said, without any more comment. Carrie felt the habitual irritation she felt for her friend returning.

  ‘Elsie, I’ve told you Wilf already has a girl, and you’re wasting your time.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ she said airily. ‘Hadn’t you better be getting back to your young lady?’

  Carrie looked at her in frustration. She had been prepared to be gentle and considerate for Elsie’s feelings on this sad day, but sometimes she doubted that Elsie had any feelings for anyone but herself at all, and all her sympathy seemed totally wasted. Instead of hugging Elsie, as anyone might feel encouraged to do on a day such as this, she bent down to hug Billy.

  ‘I’ll see you soon then,’ she said to anyone who was listening. But Billy had squirmed away, Elsie had gone back to the scullery to find
something to eat, Pa was in his little shed, and Wilf was in the back yard throwing scraps to the chickens. Carrie shrugged. Ma was dozing upstairs, and it seemed that nobody needed her here right now, so she might just as well get back to those who did.

  She resisted the urge to bang the door behind her, and went up the hill in the rain towards Clifton, feeling unaccountably resentful against the whole world.

  * * *

  ‘There’s somebody here to see you, Carrie,’ Cook said, the minute she got inside the kitchen door, shaking the rain from her dishevelled hair.

  Carrie looked up quickly. The only visitor she normally got was Billy, but there was something in Cook’s smug voice that alerted her at once. The kitchen was warm and steamy and comfortable, and she heard the kitchen maids giggling as John Travis seemed to unfold his long legs from a wooden chair near the stove and turn to smile at her.

  ‘What — what on earth are you doing here?’ she stammered, taken completely off-balance by this unexpected appearance.

  ‘Well, that’s a nice way to greet your young man and no mistake,’ she heard Cook say.

  Carrie ignored her as John came towards her and took her damp hands in his own.

  ‘I seem to have chosen a bad day to come calling. I’m sorry about your friend, Carrie. She must be very upset.’

  ‘Elsie’s being — just Elsie,’ she muttered. ‘She’s staying with Ma for a day or two while she gets over it.’

  ‘That’s kind of your mother.’

  She felt all kinds of a fool, standing here making small talk while her wet clothes steamed, and the skivvies were hanging on their every word as if it was something out of a bad play. Cook took charge.

  ‘Miss Helen gave you time off for the funeral, Carrie, and you’re back sooner than expected, so why don’t you go and get into some dry clothes, then you and your young man can talk together in the laundry room.’

  It was about the only bit of privacy she could offer, since Carrie obviously couldn’t take him up to her room. She felt so embarrassed, thinking it must underline her lowly position here, but John didn’t seem to notice anything odd, and nodded at once.

  ‘I’ll wait,’ he said, ‘providing Cook keeps me topped up with another cup of her delicious hot chocolate.’

  As Carrie escaped up the servants’ stairs, she saw Cook’s gratified smile, and guessed that she was probably wondering how the very ordinary Carrie Stuckey had got hold of such a presentable and well-mannered young man.

  When she reached her room, and scrambled out of her funeral clothes into her everyday working attire, it dawned on her that John was more tidily dressed than in his usual boating clothes, as if he’d been in the city on business.

  Such magnificence was in danger of making her even more tongue-tied — and if that happened, it was going to make his arrival here quite pointless. Annoyed at her own confusion, she went flying back down the stairs, to arrive breathless in the kitchen. As John stood up, she led the way to the laundry room with her chin high, aware that she’d be the subject of plenty of tittle-tattle among the young skivvies for the rest of the day.

  * * *

  As soon as she closed the door behind then, John caught her close. She was held so fast against his chest that she could hardly breathe, and she struggled to free herself. The joy of being in his arms again was quite lost in her resentment of his taking so long to contact her, and in the recklessness of such an uninhibited embrace.

  ‘Are you mad?’ she gasped. ‘What if anyone should come in? I’d get the sack at once!’

  Besides which, she was still unsettled from the occasion that morning, and it didn’t seem right to be canoodling so soon after … she stepped back a pace to lean against the cold stone sink, her eyes stormy, her arms stiff at her sides. She saw his face turn a dull, angry red, and he spoke without thinking.

  ‘My God, no matter where you go, you still have a Jacob’s Wells Road mentality, don’t you?’

  Carrie felt her skin burn with a shocked resentment at that. He had a nerve, coming here and insulting her.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with Jacob’s Wells Road,’ she hissed. ‘But I know when somebody’s looking down on me for living there —’

  ‘You’re not living there now, and it’s time you took a pride in yourself, that’s all I mean.’

  She stared at him. ‘You mean just because I’m living among the nobs, I should be nobby like ’em? Well, I could tell you a thing or two about the high and mighty young madams who live here!’ She seethed, remembering the indignity of Miss Helen Barclay’s ringing slap across her cheek.

  And then she stopped her tirade as she heard the distinct sound of mutterings and gigglings outside the laundry door. She turned and wrenched it open, and the two skivvies nearly fell inside.

  ‘Get about your work and mind your own business,’ Carrie yelled like a fishwife.

  She caught hold of them by their gawky shoulders and bundled them back to the kitchen, where Cook tut-tutted at such goings-on, but she boxed their ears just the same. The last thing Carrie heard as she slammed the laundry room door shut to enclose herself and John once more, was the sound of their yelping. The next thing she heard was the sound of John’s slow handclap.

  ‘I’ll say this for you, love. There’s no lack of entertainment when you’re around. What are you going to do for an encore?’

  She glared into his face, not even sure what the word meant. And then she saw his eyes soften and his hand reached out for hers.

  ‘Dear God, Carrie, I didn’t come all this way just to fight with you.’

  ‘What did you come for then?’ she muttered, beginning to realise what a fool she must seem to him, and wondering why he bothered with her at all.

  ‘To tell you what’s been happening lately, and why it’s been impossible for me to see you.’

  ‘Our Billy told me you were far too busy,’ she said, unable to hide the sarcasm. ‘A big man like you —’

  ‘Stop it, you little fool,’ he said, almost angrily. ‘You must have known it was something important to stop me from seeing you.’

  ‘How was I supposed to know? You could have sent me a note, even if you couldn’t see me. I can read!’

  For a moment, she seemed to stand outside herself, and see what a defensive little madam she was being. There were more ways than one of being a snob, and she was acting the part brilliantly …

  ‘My uncle was taken to hospital a couple of weeks ago,’ John said abruptly. ‘We thought he was going to die, but he didn’t, though he’s slightly paralysed down one side of his body, and his speech is affected.’

  Carrie was so shocked that she couldn’t speak for a moment, and then the words came out in a rush. She realised John was still holding her hand, but it was gripping hers now, and she remembered the love he had for his uncle. She felt a surge of compassion and remorse, and moved nearer to him.

  ‘Oh John, I’m so sorry. If only you’d let me know.’

  ‘I should have done, but everything seemed to happen so fast. He recovered from the stroke quite well, and we got him home again after a week, but then Mrs Ryan started her tricks.’

  ‘Mrs Ryan?’ Carrie recalled the lady-friend with such a proprietary eye on the Travis household. ‘What does she have to do with it?’

  ‘Everything,’ John said grimly. ‘She’s been doing her best to persuade Uncle Oswald to change his Will in her favour for all the companionship and attention she’s given him in recent months. She wanted everything, the house, the boat, what money he had.’

  Carrie’s eyes were round with outrage. ‘But it should all be yours when he —’

  ‘Yes. When he dies,’ John retorted. ‘But hopefully, he’s not going to die, and neither has he lost his senses. In fact, she’s done him quite a good turn, and opened his eyes to the grasping woman she really is.’

  He seemed to be talking almost to himself now, and Carrie could see all this had been a shock to him. She spoke tentatively.

  ‘But as l
ong as he saw sense and didn’t change his Will —’ she began.

  ‘That’s just it. It turned out he never made a Will at all. He never thought it necessary, since there were only the two of us, and I was his natural nephew. But Mrs Ryan also has a nephew who’s a lawyer, and says she has certain rights, since the two of them have been occasionally co-habiting. He’ll contest any claim I make when the time comes, to be sure she gets a share at least.’

  Carrie blushed to the roots of her hair, as she realised what John meant.

  ‘So what’s happened now?’

  ‘What’s happened now is that the lady is away visiting friends for a few days, and a lawyer has been to the house today to draw up Uncle Oswald’s Will. It’s watertight, and everything will come to me as he always intended, and she won’t get her greedy little hands on anything but the rose bush in the front garden that he’s left to her. And I shall take great pleasure in digging it up when the time comes.’

  ‘But that won’t be for a very long time, I hope,’ Carrie murmured.

  He looked blank for a moment, and then nodded. ‘Of course, because such an event will mean that Uncle Oswald’s dead. I hope that day is far away too, but I fear he’ll never be the same as he was.’

  ‘What a sad day this is turning out to be,’ Carrie said quietly. ‘First, Elsie’s granpa’s burying, and now this. I’m so very sorry, John.’

  ‘So am I forgiven?’ he asked, his eyes slowly focusing on her again.

  She moved into his arms, and he breathed in the scent of her wet hair as if it was nectar.

  ‘Of course.’

  She leaned her head against him, feeling the strength of his arms around her, and wishing they could stay like this for ever. But their closeness was interrupted by a quick rap on the door, and then Cook poking her head around it.

  ‘You’d best say good-bye to your young man, Carrie. Miss Helen’s bell has been ringing for this past five minutes.’

  She struggled out of John’s arms at once. She had vaguely heard a bell ringing from the panel in the kitchen wall, but assumed that someone else would be answering it. Naturally, if it was Miss Helen’s bell, it would be summoning her. She felt her nerves jump.