by Nancy Carson
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, looking up at him appealingly, aware of other passengers witnessing her plight. ‘I seem to have forgotten my purse.’
‘That’s a pity, missus, eh?’ the conductor replied mockingly; he was used to dealing with all sorts of excuses for avoiding payment of fares. ‘Especially on a day like this, eh? Off at the next stop, eh, missus?’
‘But can’t you see I’ve got two small children with me?’ she pleaded. ‘They could catch their deaths in this weather. We’re only going to Holly Hall.’
‘That ain’t my concern, missus,’ he replied, uninterested, and pulled the cord that dinged the bell as a signal for the driver to stop.
The tramcar ground to a halt.
‘Off you go, missus. This car ain’t shiftin’ till you’ve shifted off it.’
Maude stood up with a sigh of irritation, gathering the children and her bag. The bag seemed to be getting bigger as she shuffled along the tramcar towards the exit. ‘Thank you for your kind consideration,’ she said contemptuously as she turned her head towards the conductor. It was a futile comment, but one she could not help making.
‘I know,’ he replied. ‘I’m all heart, me.’
In the pouring rain again, Maude debated with herself whether it was worth going back to find her purse, but decided against it. There would be little or nothing in it, and in any case, the bailiffs might have left by now and locked the house up. There was only one way to go – towards Holly Hall House.
Every few minutes Maude had to stop to put down her bag to give her arm a rest, and alternate it with carrying Louise. Benjie, squinting from the rain, was the silent essence of patience and tolerance, almost as if he understood her plight and sympathised. Maude had nothing but quiet admiration for his uncomplaining stoicism.
It took twenty minutes to get there. As they walked along the bending gravel drive, Benjie looked up and smiled.
‘Will my mommy be here?’ he asked poignantly.
‘I’d be very surprised,’ Maude replied.
‘Will my daddy be here?’
‘Well, you never know, Benjie.’
On reaching the front door, Maude tugged on the bell pull. The maid answered, who Maude, naturally, did not know. Nor did the maid know Maude. However, she recognised Benjie at once.
‘Why, it’s little Benjie,’ she gushed. ‘Where’ve you bin all this while?’
‘He’s been with me,’ Maude replied for him, thankful to see a face that was not aggressive. ‘I’m Miss Atkins. I look after Benjie for Mr Sampson. Is Mr Sampson at home?’
‘No, miss. He left early to go to London.’
‘London again. May we come in, please?’ she appealed. ‘We are rather soaked.’
Seeing little Benjie’s plight, Jane considered she had no choice but to let them in. Jane quickly worked out that this Miss Atkins must be the woman her employer was keeping, and that the other child must be her child by him.
‘Yes, come in, miss. Let me take your bag.’
They stepped inside out of the wind and rain.
‘Thank you. I don’t know your name…’
‘Mr Sampson calls me Jane, as did Mrs Sampson when she was here. Have you come to stay long?’
‘For good, Jane. If we can just get our wet coats off, I’d be happy to explain.’
‘Let me see to Benjie,’ Jane suggested. ‘Then I’ll make a nice cup of tea. I bet you could murder a cup of tea, eh, miss?’
Maude smiled. ‘You’re very kind, Jane. Thank you.’ As they took off their coats, she said, ‘I didn’t know Mr Sampson was going to London today. He normally tells me.’
‘A letter came this morning, miss.’ Jane nodded, seemingly with some disdain, in the direction of a pink envelope that lay on top of the dresser. ‘He told me to expect him when I see him.’
‘So he might be gone a few days?’
‘So it would seem, miss.’
‘I see there’ve been a few changes here, Jane,’ Maude remarked, her swivelling eyes taking in some of the sweeping changes to décor, fixtures and furnishings.
‘Oh, indeed. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable in the sitting room first of all, and I’ll brew that pot of tea?’
‘Please carry on, Jane. I’ll just take a peek at some of the changes. I used to be employed here as Benjie’s nanny, you know, so I remember the house as it used to be.’
‘Oh, I see…Right you are, miss.’
As Jane scurried off into the kitchen, Maude eyed the pink envelope with increasing suspicion. Benjie had wandered off already to explore, while she still held Louise. Unable to resist, she picked up the envelope, discerned a woman’s handwriting and, with a pounding heart and a profound sense of foreboding, took it into the sitting room. She sat down, placing Louise beside her, peered into the envelope and withdrew the letter.
As she read it, and the implications of what it all meant sank in, she was agape with incredulity. Without being utterly explicit, it told all. It explained Benjamin’s baulking at the prospect of marriage, at his frequent trips to London, at his declining enthusiasm for her and for their relationship. Nor could she help shedding a tear. Yet the more tears she shed, the angrier she became. What sort of man could be so callous? How could he possibly have the gall to two-time her and at the same time expect her to love and nurture his son whom he’d thrust upon her? Again, she was pregnant by this same callous fool whom she had adored and contentedly succumbed to. Yet all the time he was busily wooing another woman in London, with the clear intention of marrying her. Whoever she was, she could not spell properly.
Maude was beginning to see more lucidly the sort of man Benjamin was, the deviousness, the deceit of which he was capable. Why had she not seen through him before? He had gone through a divorce, citing his wife as an adulteress, robbing her of the little son she adored, purely out of vindictiveness. Nor could there be any other reason, for once he had custody he was all too quick to foist the child on herself, and take little or no notice of him. He had not even paid the rent on the house the child lived in. That was some indication of how much he cared, how casually he took his responsibilities. Now, if this letter was anything to go by, this London woman might also be pregnant.
Maude wiped away her tears. She was seething with anger. She was intelligent and bright; indeed, she had enjoyed a decent education, so why had she been so dim as to allow herself to be cheated by Benjamin Sampson? Why had she not put two and two together earlier? The clues had all been there. The fact that he had seduced her in the first place – and she had gone along with it – when he was already married to a beautiful girl, now spoke volumes. Why had she not pondered all that before?
Jane walked in with a laden tea tray, with Benjie following. ‘Your tea, miss,’ she announced.
‘Thank you so much, Jane.’
‘I see you have the letter, miss.’ There was no reprimand in her tone.
Maude, however, looked guiltily at Jane. ‘My curiosity overcame me. I’d like you to read it as well, Jane, if you please, and tell me what you think.’
‘I already have, miss.’
‘You have? So what does it tell you?’
‘That Mr Sampson is a fool, miss, if you don’t mind me saying so. An incorrigible fool.’
‘Jane, will you kindly fetch another cup and saucer for yourself, then sit down and talk to me? I desperately need to talk to somebody.’
‘Very well, miss. If you wish.’
When she returned with a fresh cup and saucer, Jane sat down and poured tea into her cup.
‘Benjie, there are some toys still in your bedroom,’ Jane said. ‘Why don’t you go and play with them for a spell, while Miss Atkins and I have a chat?’
Benjie looked up, smiled, as if in thanks for receiving such permission, and went.
‘By the way, Jane – please call me Maude.’ Maude took a sip from her cup. ‘I am Mr Sampson’s kept woman,’ she admitted candidly. ‘I’ve looked after young Benjie ever since he was awarded custody o
f the boy, but I can see now that I have been exploited scandalously. My little daughter here is also Mr Sampson’s child. Now, I find myself with child again, not surprisingly, I must confess,’ she stated frankly. ‘Suddenly I’m staring at the fact that he’s in love with another woman, whom he wishes to marry, but who is already married. It’s plain he doesn’t want me. I’m second best, that much is clear. To prove it, this very morning bailiffs evicted us, because Mr Sampson hasn’t paid rent on my house for four months. What does all that tell you, Jane?’
‘That you are a fool for standing for it, Maude, if you can take an honest answer. But let me tell you this – Mr Sampson is bankrupt. I have been known to read some of the mail he’s left lying around. I know he’s spent a fortune on this house – for this other woman, it seems – and the Lord above knows how he’s going to pay for it. Already there have been letters, and folk have been clamouring at the door for payment, but they’ve got no chance of ever getting their money. Already the butcher, the baker and the candlestick maker have stopped letting us have anything until bills are paid in full. Their bills still ain’t been paid, though. I’ve had no wages for months either. So it don’t surprise me as he’s paid no rent on your house, whether his son and daughter are there or not.’
‘So what do you reckon I should do, Jane? Is there a way round it, other than throw myself on his mercy?’
‘It’s up to you, Maude, but me better judgement would never let me throw meself on the mercy of a fool.’
‘I don’t think my better judgement will allow me to either, Jane. He’s an absolute swine…’ She felt tears welling in her eyes again.
Jane lifted her cup and took another sip of tea. After a pause, she said, ‘Mrs Sampson was here a while ago. She was always very nice to me.’
‘I knew Mrs Sampson,’ Maude interjected, wiping her eyes.
‘It was after Mr Sampson had taken Benjie from her. She was bitterly upset, and she came here because she wanted to see her son, to make sure he was all right. The poor woman was surprised and hurt that Benjie hadn’t been here at all since she left. It was plain she expected him to be here. She dearly loves her boy, and misses him terribly.’
‘I’m sure she does, Jane. However, Mrs Sampson herself has been no angel, you know. She’s had a child by another man.’
‘So I believe, but that doesn’t make her a bad mother. In fact, I reckon she’s a good mother. If she strayed, maybe it was for good reason. I expect she just wanted to be loved. I imagine she got precious little loving from him, from what bit I saw of ’em together.’
‘D’you think I’m judging her unfairly, then?’
‘We’re all entitled to our opinions, Maude. Sometimes it pays to revisit them, though, I always think. Mrs Sampson asked if I knew where Mr Sampson had taken Benjie, you know, but o’ course, I had to tell her I didn’t know.’
‘Where does Mrs Sampson live now, Jane?’
‘Talbot Street in Brierley Hill. I got the address wrote down. Would you like it, by any chance?’
‘That, I would, Jane.’
‘Then I’ll go and get it for you.’
* * *
Chapter 32
Struggling with her bag of clothes and Louise, with Benjie in tow, Maude Atkins trudged doggedly towards the little house of Aurelia Sampson in Talbot Street. Its distance from Holly Hall House was about a mile but, mercifully, the rain had ceased. After asking directions, she eventually located Talbot Street and found the house. Experience dictated it was pointless knocking on the front door; front doors were only ever opened to let out a coffin or let in an upright piano. Callers always walked through the entry to seek attention at the back.
She tapped tentatively on the back door and waited. A woman from the adjoining house emerged from the privy behind the brewhouse adjusting her pinafore. She looked Maude up and down, and then smiled as she recognised Benjie.
‘I reckon ’er’s in,’ the woman said. ‘’Er’ll be upstairs with the babby. I’d knock a bit ’arder if I was yo’.’
‘Thank you,’ Maude replied, and knocked again, but more firmly.
As far as Maude was concerned, there had always been something unconventional about Aurelia, some unfathomable trait that rendered her enigmatic; she was deep, she seemed troubled and restless, and Maude could not immediately define what lay within her hidden depths.
After a few moments, Aurelia answered. ‘Maude Atkins!’ she exclaimed, putting her hand to her mouth in consternation. Maude had obviously been crying. Significantly, Benjie was with her, and she was hauling a large canvas bag as well as carrying a small child, that Aurelia guessed was her daughter by Benjamin.
At sight of his mother, Benjie rushed to her, stepping across the threshold. He thrust his arms around her skirts and cried, ‘Mommy!’
‘Oh, Benjie,’ she cooed with delight, and swept him up in her arms. ‘Oh, my precious…Where’ve you been? I’ve missed you so much. And your clothes are all wet.’
‘We got caught in the rain earlier, Mrs Sampson,’ Maude explained.
‘Let’s get you into something dry. Maude, thank you so much for bringing my son to see me. Are you wet, too?’
‘We’re drying out slowly.’
‘Perhaps you’d better come in. Is it your intention to leave Benjie here for a while? I mean, would you rather call back for him later?’
‘I’d like to speak to you, Mrs Sampson, if it’s all the same to you.’
Aurelia, curious as to what had prompted Maude to bring Benjie to see her, realised it was the least she could do, and stepped aside to allow her and her baby in. Something was amiss; the girl was clearly troubled, and not as spirited as she remembered her. It seemed she was bearing the worries of the entire world on her shoulders. Her face, once round and attractive, was showing lines of anguish. Her eyes, once bright and provocative, were not only puffy with weeping, but also expressionless and preoccupied. Aurelia surmised correctly that Maude was discovering, too late, the treachery of which Benjamin was capable. Aurelia was experiencing mixed feelings; on the one hand, she felt pity for Maude; on the other, maybe she was getting her just deserts.
‘Please sit down,’ Aurelia said equably, mindful of the mutual antagonism that had blighted them hitherto. ‘I trust this pretty little girl is your daughter?’ She could have used the words ‘Benjamin’s daughter’, but that would have sounded too antagonistic.
‘She certainly is.’
Aurelia was still clinging to Benjie, and she kissed him, smothering him with her love. She sat down at the table holding him on her lap.
Maude, in turn, noticed that Aurelia was not looking as glamorous as she recalled, but it was to be expected. It seemed that the divorce and its consequences had taken their toll. However, she retained her natural poise and demeanour.
‘The way things have turned out makes this meeting a little awkward, Maude,’ Aurelia suggested, intending to straighten things out from the outset. ‘But I get the distinct impression that something’s amiss, else I suppose you wouldn’t have come here.’
Recognising that Aurelia had lost none of her forthrightness and perception, Maude forced a smile through her anxiety. ‘You’re right, Mrs Sampson. Something is amiss – greatly amiss – but I’ve quite made up my mind how to handle it.’
‘Mommy, can I draw, please?’ Benjie chirped, butting in.
‘Yes, of course, dear. Let me find your paper and crayons – I still have them – then you can sit at the table.’ She sat him on another chair, stood up, opened a drawer in the sideboard and withdrew his things. She placed them on the table, and set him before them. She smiled at Maude. ‘He loves to draw.’
‘Oh, I know he does.’
‘Would you like a cup of tea, Maude?’
‘Oh, no thank you, Mrs Sampson. I already had one with the maid at Benjamin’s house.’
‘You went there?’
Maude nodded. ‘I…I found it necessary…’
‘Well, whatever is on your mind, Maude
, do you want to talk to me about it? Is there a problem with Benjie I should know about?’
‘No, not Benjie…I really don’t quite know where to begin, Mrs Sampson,’ Maude said, thus admitting she was troubled. ‘As you say, because of what happened there’s bound to have been some ill feeling between us. That’s perfectly understandable. But it would be nice if we could put it all behind us, because now…now I understand what you’ve been through.’
Aurelia made no reply. The girl has come to her cake and milk, she thought.
‘This very morning, Mrs Sampson, me and the two children were evicted from our house.’
Aurelia looked at her with wide-eyed astonishment. This, she had not expected. ‘Evicted?’
‘Evicted…I’m sure you must realise that I’ve had to rely on Benjamin for everything, including paying the rent. For four months, though, he hasn’t paid any, and I had no idea at all. The bailiffs came round first thing and threw us out.’
‘That must have been horrid for you.’
‘Oh, you can’t imagine, Mrs Sampson. I was petrified – and angry. I’m still angry. That’s why I went to Benjamin’s house with the children.’
‘I see.’
‘But Benjamin is in London.’
‘Ah…’
‘And then Jane, the maid, told me she thought Benjamin was bankrupt.’
‘That wouldn’t surprise me in the least, Maude. I can’t help you with money, I’m afraid, except for a few shillings. I only wish I could.’
‘Oh, I’m not here to beg for charity, Mrs Sampson. We’ll survive…Anyway,’ Maude went on, ‘I’ve also learned this morning that Benjamin has been having an affair behind my back with some woman in London, hence his frequent visits there. I read a letter she wrote him. He’s asked her to marry him, and she’s evidently the reason he’s had his house all done-up. He must have been confident she would say yes.’ She sighed profoundly. ‘Nevertheless, the woman’s obviously got some sense, because she’s refused him. According to Jane, he went haring off to London again this morning. Trying to get her to change her mind, I suppose.’
‘So are you going back there, to Holly Hall House?’ Aurelia asked with genuine concern.