by Jess Foley
‘Oh, she’s no bother,’ Ryllis said, turning to the young woman. And then to the child, ‘You’re no bother, are you, Maisie?’
At the soft words, which could have been taken as encouragement, the little girl began to chatter away in her limited vocabulary, and Ryllis responded. While Lydia looked on, indulgently smiling, Thomas could barely hide a scowl. Then his expression changed, for in another second the child was turning to him and saying, ‘Cake, look,’ and holding out to him a battered cream-smeared fragment. As she moved closer to him he shrank back a little, holding up a hand to ward off the proffered gift. ‘No, thank you, miss,’ he said, trying to smile. ‘I’ve had mine.’ Then the child’s mother, obviously having discerned, not before time, that her child was not welcome for quite so long, said, ‘Come’ ere, Miss Maisie, and stop botherin’ the nice people. They don’t want your cake.’ Getting up from her chair she took the child under the arms and carried her away. The look of relief on Thomas’s face was not quite hidden. The next moment he was saying, ‘Well, I think we might as well leave, don’t you?’ He dug into his pocket for change and got up. ‘Oh, just a minute more,’ said Ryllis, still holding her cup. ‘I haven’t quite finished.’
She drank down the last of her tea and stood up, and after Thomas had paid at the counter the two sisters went out on to the street. He joined them almost immediately, and met Ryllis’s smile with a frown, saying to her, in a gruff mutter, ‘I can’t imagine why you had to encourage that little brat. As if she weren’t bad enough as it was.’
‘Oh, Tom,’ Ryllis said, ‘she was a dear little thing.’
‘A dear little thing?’ He threw a glance back over his shoulder towards the teashop’s doorway. ‘All that disgusting muck over her hands. I felt sure she was going to wipe her fingers on my jacket. She would have done, given half a chance. I can’t understand why parents think their children are to be loved and admired in whatever circumstances.’ Then, his scowl giving way to a smile, he added, ‘Anyway, we won’t let that spoil a nice day, eh? What d’you say we head for the coach? I think we should. It’s quarter to six.’
‘Are you going already?’ Lydia asked.
‘We’ve got to,’ Ryllis said. ‘Tom’s parents are expecting out of town visitors, and Tom’s promised to be there.’
‘I see. Well – I’ll walk with you and see you off.’
The three of them set off through the town, heading towards the railway station, from where many of the coaches left on their various journeys.
As they skirted the square they approached a blind man on a corner who was selling boxes of matches. Ryllis immediately came to a stop and bent her head to look in her bag. ‘What’s up?’ Thomas said. ‘What are you doing?’
Keeping her voice low so that the match-seller shouldn’t hear, she said, ‘That poor blind man. I must buy some matches from him.’
‘For goodness sake, don’t be foolish,’ Thomas said. ‘Keep your money in your purse. He doesn’t need it.’
‘But Tom –’
‘Half the time it’s an act,’ he said. ‘Half the so-called blind can see as well as you or I. Like all the perfectly able cripples you see – they’re only out for what they can get.’
In seconds they had passed by the blind man and were heading on towards the station.
*
The coach stop was busy with traffic and people coming and going constantly. On arrival, the three found there were already a number of people waiting to board the Barford-bound coach, and, doing a quick head count, Thomas said it didn’t look as if there’d be room for Ryllis and himself. ‘We shouldn’t have left it so late,’ he said.
The coach drew in and let its passengers off, and while the outgoing passengers boarded, the horses were changed. Seeing it fill up so quickly, Thomas said irritably that there was nothing for it but to wait half an hour for the next one – at least they should be guaranteed seats on that.
When the coach was fully prepared, Lydia stood watching as it moved off along the street and disappeared from view around a bend. Then at her side, Ryllis was saying to her, ‘Lyddy, there’s that man we met.’
Lydia turned to her sister. ‘Who? What man?’
Ryllis nodded off in the direction of a carriage that had just pulled in near the entrance to the railway station. ‘The man in the square the other week. The one you spoke to when you came here for your interview.’
‘Ah, yes.’
Lydia’s keen gaze saw him now, the familiar-looking tall man helping an elderly woman out of a trap that stood at the kerb. As she watched, the man handed the reins to a small boy who waited nearby, then escorted the woman into the station.
‘Who was that?’ Thomas asked, following the girls’ gazes.
‘A man I met the other day when I came to Seager’s for my interview,’ Lydia said. ‘Ryllis and I had lost each other and he helped us.’
‘You want to be careful who you talk to,’ Thomas said. ‘There’s no shortage of mashers around. You’d do well to steer clear of’ em.’
‘Oh, but he was very nice,’ Ryllis said, ‘and very well spoken.’
‘Yes, and there’s many a young girl has thought such a thing to her lasting regret.’
Some minutes passed and then Lydia, who had kept her eyes on the station entrance, saw the man reappear and move towards his carriage. ‘Here he is again,’ Ryllis said unnecessarily, and Lydia nodded, and murmured, ‘I know. Don’t stare,’ and then a moment later the man was turning slightly, looking their way.
As his gaze fell upon her, Lydia saw his eyes widen in surprise, and saw his mouth move in a smile. The next moment he was coming towards them.
Chapter Seven
‘Well, the Misses Halley! This is a surprise.’ The man’s smile was broad as he looked at the two young women. ‘I hope you haven’t been losing each other in Redbury again.’
Lydia gave a little laugh, that rang slightly too loud in her ears. ‘No, not today. No one got lost today.’ She hesitated briefly, then said, ‘It’s Mr Anderson, isn’t it? Mr Guy Anderson.’
He nodded. ‘It is indeed. I’m flattered that you remembered.’
She felt herself blushing slightly then, gesturing to Thomas, said, ‘This is Mr Thomas Bissett, my sister’s friend. Mr Bissett – Mr Guy Anderson.’
The two men shook hands, and when the introductions were completed, Mr Anderson said, ‘You’re obviously waiting for a coach. Are you going back to Capinfell?’
‘Not today,’ Lydia said. ‘Mr Bissett and my sister are heading for Barford. Unfortunately they just lost the coach. It was full up.’
‘So now,’ Thomas said, ‘we’ve got to wait for the next one.’
‘Oh, dear.’ Mr Anderson looked sympathetic. ‘When is that due?’
‘Not for another half hour.’
‘And is that inconvenient?’
Ryllis spoke up here. ‘Mr Bissett was keen to get back home to meet certain people who were visiting,’ she said.
‘And what about you, Miss Halley?’ Mr Anderson turned back to Lydia. ‘Are you not bound for Barford?’
‘No, I’m staying here in Redbury,’ Lydia said. ‘I just came to see my sister and Mr Bissett off on the coach.’
‘I see.’ A moment of silence went by, then he said, ‘Well, now, listen. I just drove out a short distance to bring an old friend of my mother’s to the train station. My mare likes a jaunt, so what d’you say that I drive you to Barford?’ Here his eyes rested on Lydia again. ‘And you, Miss Halley, can come along for the ride and keep me company on the box.’ Quickly he added: ‘Of course, I’ll bring you back to Redbury and drive you home or wherever you want to go.’
Lydia did not answer, although she was inclined to decline the offer, but at once Thomas spoke up, saying, ‘Well, that’s very decent of you, sir. We’d appreciate that very much, wouldn’t we, Ryllis?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Ryllis replied. ‘That would be splendid. You’ll get home in good time after all, Tom.’
‘I
ndeed,’ said Mr Anderson, ‘and we might make almost as good progress as the coach.’
Both Ryllis and Thomas turned their eyes to Lydia now, looking for her agreement, and she knew she could not do anything but acquiesce.
‘Very well,’ she said, ‘that would be very nice.’
Sitting in the open carriage, they had to raise their voices over the sounds of the wheels and the horse’s hooves, and against the light breeze that threatened to waft their words away. The large, strong mare between the shafts made light work of pulling the trap and its occupants. ‘So,’ Mr Anderson said, after they had driven a little way, half turning, speaking to Ryllis and Thomas who sat behind him, ‘have you been having a few hours’ relaxation in Redbury?’
‘Yes, something like that,’ Ryllis answered, to which Thomas added:
‘If you can call it that.’
‘Don’t you like Redbury?’ Mr Anderson said to him.
‘There’s not much to like, is there?’ said Thomas. ‘Not in my reckoning, anyway. There’s certainly not much to do there.’
‘I suppose it depends what you’re looking for.’
Ryllis said, ‘Mr Bissett’s been living in London – where the high life is.’
‘London, eh?’ Mr Anderson said. ‘Well, now, there’s a place.’
‘Do you know it?’ Ryllis said. ‘Have you ever been?’
‘Yes, a few times, and it had its moments, there’s no denying.’ He turned to Lydia who sat beside him. ‘What about you, Miss Halley? Do you enjoy travel?’
‘I haven’t had any real opportunity, though I like to read of exotic places.’
‘Oh, Miss Halley,’ Thomas said, raising his voice, ‘wouldn’t you like to go to Paris and see the new tower they’ve just finished, that Eiffel Tower everyone’s talking about?’
‘Perhaps one day,’ Lydia said, ‘but there are so many wonders closer to home that I’ve never set eyes on. For one thing, I have to confess I’d love to see some of the theatres and opera houses that you find in the big cities.’
‘Ah, yes,’ Mr Anderson said. ‘That’s where the big cities come into their own. Though of course there’s the theatre in Redbury – and it sometimes offers touring opera productions. Have you never been to one?’
‘No, I haven’t,’ Lydia said. She could have added that her father would have frowned at the very idea, but said nothing more.
‘Perhaps you’ll go one day.’
‘Who knows. Perhaps I shall.’
‘What about you, Mr Bissett?’ Mr Anderson said. ‘Do you go to the theatre in Redbury?’
‘The theatre?’ Thomas said scornfully. ‘Hah. I’ve no time for that kind of nonsense. Give me something real to deal with. You know in London they’ve just opened a tube railway – and it goes right underneath the River Thames.’
‘Yes, so I read.’
Mr Anderson asked Thomas then about his employment, and the latter replied at length, speaking of his work at his uncle’s factory. Ryllis hung on his words, laughing encouragingly as he related some amusing anecdote about one of the workers. He continued to talk animatedly for most of the remainder of the journey.
At last they saw before them the village of Barford, and as soon as they reached the outskirts Thomas asked to be let down, saying that he would walk the rest of the way. Mr Anderson drew the carriage to a halt and Thomas kissed Ryllis on the cheek and jumped down onto the road. Reaching up, he shook hands with Mr Anderson, then said to Lydia, touching his hat, ‘It’s been a pleasure, Miss Halley, and I hope to see you again before too long.’
‘I hope so too, Mr Bissett,’ Lydia replied, then added, ‘You’ll look after our Ryllis, won’t you?’
He smiled. ‘Oh, indeed. Have no fear of that.’
When Thomas had moved away, Mr Anderson started off the carriage again, and at Ryllis’s directions, drove through the village to the southern side, pulling up at a large redbrick Victorian house that nestled back behind tall elm trees. As the man jumped down, Ryllis said, whispering to her sister: ‘Did you like Tom? Oh, I hope you did. He gets a little fraught at times, but you mustn’t take any notice.’
‘Oh, he was charming,’ Lydia said, then went on, compounding her lie: ‘I enjoyed meeting him.’
Mr Anderson helped Ryllis down, then Lydia watched as Ryllis went in at the gate, turned to give a final wave and disappeared from view. A moment later Mr Anderson had climbed back into the carriage and was calling out to the horse, ‘Ready to go, then, Tess?’ and they were starting off again.
They drove for a little while, the wheels eating up the distance, then Mr Anderson said to Lydia, ‘So it’s back to Redbury for you now, is it?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
A few moments, then he asked, ‘Are you in a great hurry to get back?’
‘Well, no – not particularly.’
‘It’s just that I don’t want to push Tess too hard. As I said, she likes a jaunt, and she’s a strong old girl, but she’s not exactly the youngest. She likes to go at her own pace.’
‘No,’ Lydia said, ‘we can take our time. Don’t press her.’
For the most part the road was clear, and they passed only a few other carriages and carts on their way. Up above them, beyond the overhanging green foliage, the sky remained a soft azure blue, broken only here and there by small drifting clouds.
‘How did you enjoy your visit with your sister today?’ Mr Anderson asked after they had travelled a little way in silence.
‘Oh, so much!’ Lydia said. ‘The time went too fast.’
‘I wish I had a sister or brother,’ he said. ‘Unfortunately I haven’t. Have you got other siblings?’
‘No, there’s only Ryllis and me.’
He nodded. ‘Do you know your sister’s friend well? Mr Bissett?’
‘No, I don’t. This was the first time we ever met.’
‘The first time, eh?’ He turned, flicked a glance at her. ‘I trust you approved.’
‘Approved?’
‘Of Mr Bissett.’
‘Ah.’ She nodded.
‘Do I take that as a yes?’ he said, smiling. ‘Do you approve?’
Lydia was silent at the question, and could have wished that it had not been asked. ‘Well,’ she said after a few moments, ‘it’s not always easy to judge, is it? Not when you’re dealing with first impressions, that sort of thing. On the other hand, I’m certain he must be a perfectly nice young man.’ She paused, then raised a hand towards the sky. ‘Look at that sky! What a perfect day this is.’
‘Oh, I see,’ he said, grinning. ‘Well, now that we’ve changed the subject and have decided to dispense with your opinions on the subject of Mr Bissett, tell me a little about your sister. She’s not in the least like you.’
‘What do you want to know? She’s sixteen years old and is working in service.’
‘How does she like it?’
‘Well, she doesn’t like it where she is, her present situation. She talks about changing it, but we’ll have to see what happens. I know she’d like to do something better, move to another place.’
‘Has that sort of work ever had appeal for you? Ladies maid, governess – anything like that?’ He smiled at her. ‘I realise I know nothing at all about you. Only that which I learned when we met in the square, and that was precious little.’ He gave a low chuckle. ‘I learned quite a lot about Mr Bissett on the drive out, but nothing much about anyone else.’
Lydia smiled in spite of herself.
‘But has it?’ he said. ‘Has domestic work ever appealed to you? It does to many girls.’
Lydia gave an ironic laugh. ‘It only appeals because there’s precious little else that’s available. This is a man’s world, Mr Anderson, and make no mistake about it. Women could do so many other jobs, but they just don’t get the chance.’
‘I’ve no doubt you’re right,’ he said, ‘but perhaps things will change in time.’
‘I think they’ll have to.’ She was silent for a moment, then she
went on, ‘But as for me, I’m happy enough working in an office. It has a lot to be said for it. For one thing, when six o’clock comes round I no longer have to answer to anyone.’
‘Oh, yes, there’s a lot to be said for that. What about your parents? I suppose they live in Capinfell, do they?’
‘My father does. I’m afraid my mother – died some months ago.’
‘Oh, dear. I’m sorry to hear that. I did notice when we first met that you were in mourning. Your sister too. I am sorry.’
‘Thank you. It was all very sudden and . . .’ She let her words trail away, feeling a tightening in her throat, and did not look at him but into the hedgerows as they passed.
‘It must be a dreadful thing to lose a parent,’ he said. ‘Fortunately both mine are in fairly good health at the moment. Though they’re neither of them young.’
‘Do you get on with them well?’
‘Oh, indeed. Though I see less of my father than my mother. Apart from his work here he has business interests in Italy, and he spends some of his time in Florence.’
‘Does your mother travel with him?’
‘Sometimes, though not as much as she once did. My father’s in his early seventies now, and my mother only a few years younger. He keeps saying he’s going to retire from his work, but it hasn’t happened yet.’
Turning a bend in the road they saw before them a public house, the Rising Sun. As they approached it, Guy said, ‘Would you care to stop for a while, and have a drink and give Tess a rest?’
She hesitated. She had never before in her life been inside any kind of drinking house. ‘I – I have to be in by half past seven,’ she said.
‘Oh, so soon?’
‘I’m afraid so. Mrs Obdermann, my landlady, is serving supper for me at that time. I said I’d be back. I think she’d be angry if I let her down.’
‘Oh, dear. Well, we can stop for a little while, can’t we?’ When she did not reply, he added, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll get you home in time.’
She found herself agreeing, and Guy guided the mare into the yard at the side of the inn, where a young lad appeared around a corner and took the horse’s bridle. As Guy jumped down, he said to the boy, ‘Give her some water as well, will you, lad? She’s bound to be thirsty.’ He helped Lydia down on to the cobbles and together they went into the saloon bar.