A Respectable Woman

by Susanna Bavin

  ‘I can do better than that, Mother-in-law. There’s a little place down the road. It doesn’t look like much, but it’s clean and the food is good. I’ll fetch my jacket and take you there.’

  He was gone before she could object, returning in his jacket and hat. He opened the door and bowed her out. She felt vexed and uncomfortable. All she wanted was to talk and now look at her, being escorted along the road to be treated to a meal. How did he always turn things his way?

  ‘In we go, Mother-in-law.’

  A bell jingled above her head. Edmund was right. The place didn’t look anything special, but her eyes, which always became razor-sharp in the presence of someone else’s housework, found nothing to object to in the simple furnishings and the cakes and scones under glass domes on the counter. She scuttled to a table and sat down before he could annoy her further by pulling out her chair. The menu was written on a piece of card.

  ‘What would you like?’ Edmund offered.

  Anything. She didn’t care. ‘Poached eggs.’

  He glanced at her.

  ‘Please,’ she added.

  ‘Kedgeree for me, I think.’ He gave the order to the waitress. ‘And tea for two, if you would be so kind.’

  Leonie seethed. It wasn’t fair that he could be charming and attentive. Smarmy bugger. He ought to be rude and critical like the scheming bully he really was. He ought to hurt everybody, so they would all know what he was like behind his front door.

  Her old front door. Her heart dipped. She mustn’t let that upset her. She needed him on her side.

  ‘You said you wish to discuss Hilda. I assume you’re here to seek my assistance?’

  Why couldn’t he let her make the request herself? Goaded, she said, ‘It’s the least you can do after the way you misquoted the newspaper.’

  His black eyebrows climbed up his broad forehead. ‘When I read your words in the paper, I was vexed and hurt on my wife’s behalf; so perhaps it’s understandable if I misquoted you. Besides, what I mistakenly told Hilda and what you actually said weren’t so very different, were they?’

  She wasn’t here to discuss that. ‘I want to make amends, but Hilda won’t listen.’

  ‘Tell me what you want me to do. Now that we no longer live together, it’s even more important that we’re on good terms.’

  ‘If you ask Hilda to give me another chance, she will.’

  ‘I’m flattered you think so highly of my powers of persuasion.’

  ‘Will you do it? Please. You say you want us all to get on.’

  ‘It will be my pleasure to intervene, Mother-in-law, for the benefit of the family.’

  Relief gushed through her. ‘Thank you, Edmund.’

  ‘Here’s an opportunity for you also to do something for the good of the family.’ He moved and she expected him to lean forward confidingly, but instead he leant backwards. ‘Will you consider doing something too?’

  What did he mean? She thought of Posy. She would do anything for Posy. ‘Of course.’

  ‘It’s a matter of trust. Families are built on trust. You trust me to talk to Hilda on your behalf, and I trust you not to take advantage of my good nature.’

  ‘I don’t follow.’

  ‘Will you do me the honour of allowing me to keep your precious things in my safekeeping? Do you trust me that much?’ He held up a finger. ‘Say nothing now, but think about it. I hope that soon you’ll come to me and make your request and I’ll be proud to consent, and I’ll also sort things out with Hilda.’ He sighed and nodded. ‘What a splendid day that will be – for the whole family.’

  The waitress appeared with their plates.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Edmund. ‘This looks delicious. And here’s our tea. Will you pour, Mother-in-law? Oh dear, is your hand trembling? Would you mind pouring?’ he asked the waitress. ‘I’ve just given my mother-in-law the good news that a misunderstanding can be resolved and she’s feeling overcome.’

  Nell wasn’t able to eat. She sat hunched in her seat at a corner table in the restaurant, feeling as if the stuffing was pouring out of her. Jim had spent the duration of the meal quizzing her about Stan, obliging her to resurrect all kinds of small details.

  ‘Is it true?’ she asked. ‘Is Stan really not a bigamist?’

  ‘Presumably. When I hear back from the registrar in Annerby, that should confirm it.’

  ‘I shan’t go back to him.’

  ‘You might have to, if Mr Aitcheson awards him custody of the children.’

  She sat upright, knocking the table. A cut-glass water goblet toppled, spilling its contents on the linen. Mortified, she made a grab for the goblet and started dabbing with her napkin, only for a waiter to appear at her elbow. Before she knew it, her napkin was gone from her hand.

  ‘I’ll arrange for fresh linen, sir,’ the waiter murmured, ‘or would you prefer to finish your meal at another table?’

  ‘No to both, thank you,’ said Jim. He waved the waiter away.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Nell.

  ‘No, I should apologise for giving you a shock.’ The sympathy in his face scared her.

  ‘Can Mr Aitcheson take my children off me? That’s cruel.’ She cast about for something to cling to. ‘He’s only a magistrate. Surely he’s not important enough.’

  ‘Believe me, we don’t want this referred to a higher court. Being in the magistrates’ court gives us a little leeway.’

  ‘Leeway? My children are at risk and the most you can offer is leeway?’

  ‘I suggest we get back to court. I need to speak to Mr Fairbrother. I expect Robbins can find you somewhere private to wait.’

  ‘I should be there when you talk to Mr Fairbrother.’

  ‘I don’t doubt your ability to hold your own, but he and I can cover more ground by ourselves.’

  An objection hovered on her lips, but she thought better of it. If this Mr Fairbrother was the gentleman paying her bill in Victoria Park, it was better all round if he didn’t have the chance to realise who she was. She couldn’t risk being sacked because of this.

  Soon she was closeted in a small office deep inside the court building. Every time she sat down, she jumped up again like a jack-in-the-box. She was a married woman. Well, she had been that all along, but it hadn’t felt like it. Stan’s bigamy had freed her from the marriage, in her own eyes if not in law. But now she wasn’t free after all.

  Mr Robbins came to escort her to the magistrates’ room. Jim joined her.

  ‘Where are the public?’ she asked.

  ‘Mr Norton and I prevailed upon Mr Aitcheson to hear the afternoon session in private.’

  ‘Mr Norton?’ She glanced beyond Jim to where Stan and his solicitor sat.

  ‘It is in no one’s interests for this to be heard in public.’

  That was something, but she found no comfort in it. She had come here so sure that Stan would get the trouncing of his life, but everything had been turned upside down.

  ‘All rise.’

  Mr Aitcheson walked in and settled himself. ‘Mr Hibbert, you wish your wife to return to you?’

  Stan stood up. ‘Yes, sir. I’ve seen the error of my ways and I want to do right by my lawful wife and family.’

  Mr Norton rose. ‘Mr Aitcheson might find that commendable, except that you hardly did right by Mrs Hibbert before.’

  ‘If the gentleman orders her to return to me, I promise to be a good and faithful husband.’ He added in an almost jokey voice, ‘I know my Nell, sir. She won’t let me get away with owt after this.’

  ‘What can you offer her?’ enquired Mr Norton.

  ‘A decent home in the town where she grew up, the place where her parents and grandparents are buried. She has a strong sense of family, does Nell, especially for her poor dead brothers who gave their lives for this country, and her sister. It’s grieved me these past two years that she felt obliged to leave her family home behind. It’s where I’m from an’ all, and it’s right that my children grow up there.’

  �
�Indeed, Mr Hibbert,’ said Mr Norton. ‘What else can you offer?’

  ‘A warm welcome from my mother, who is willing to forgive and forget that Nell left without a word.’

  ‘Are you in a position of financial security?’ asked Mr Norton.

  ‘Yes, sir. I’m an upholsterer by trade and I’ve been in the same works all my life, from being an apprentice.’

  ‘One more question,’ said Mr Norton. ‘What of the other woman?’

  Stan cleared his throat. ‘She no longer resides in Annerby, sir.’ Resides? That wasn’t Stan talking. He was repeating what he had been told to say.

  ‘You’re separated?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Permanently?’ asked Mr Aitcheson.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘And the children of the liaison?’ asked Mr Norton.

  ‘Gone as well, sir. Permanently. We’re no longer a couple.’

  ‘You never were a couple,’ snapped Mr Aitcheson, ‘not in any way deemed acceptable by respectable society.’

  ‘The soi-disant Mrs Hibbert has left with another man,’ said Mr Norton, ‘and they’re no longer in the district.’

  Mr Aitcheson’s pen made rapid passes above the paper. ‘Mr Franks, do you wish to ask Mr Hibbert anything?’

  Jim stood. ‘So now we know why you wish for Mrs Hibbert’s return. Your – let us be polite and refer to her as your common-law wife – has departed and you’re in need of a housekeeper.’

  ‘That’s not it, sir,’ said Stan. ‘My Nell is a good woman and I want her back – and the children. I want to put things right. She deserves that.’

  ‘Yet when you went to see her in her house, it was to demand money. Correct me if I’m wrong.’

  ‘No, no, no,’ exclaimed the magistrate. ‘I won’t have that. As her husband, he is entitled to her money.’

  ‘At the time she left her husband,’ said Jim, ‘Mrs Hibbbert had good reason to do so. Since then, she has worked hard to provide a home for her children, who are fed, clothed, clean and happy.’

  ‘As happy as children can be whose father is dead,’ said Mr Norton.

  ‘The children are settled, thanks to Mrs Hibbert’s devotion.’

  ‘Settled?’ demanded Mr Aitcheson. ‘Without their father? Nonsense. It’s a hand-to-mouth existence at best without a man’s wage. If the son doesn’t grow up tied to his mother’s apron strings, he’ll be a tearaway. A boy needs a man’s hand to guide him and a man is entitled to expect his wife to look after his home. Mr Hibbert’s conduct in setting up the second household was disgraceful, but if higher courts can show leniency to actual bigamy, it behoves me to overlook the common-law arrangements, unsavoury as they were. Therefore …’

  Nell caught her breath. Was he about to order—?

  ‘One final question for Mr Hibbert,’ said Jim.

  Mr Aitcheson sighed. ‘If you must.’

  ‘Mr Hibbert, if your family were to return to you, where would they live? In Vicarage Lane?’

  ‘What is the significance?’ demanded the magistrate.

  ‘I’m sure Mr Hibbert will be pleased to explain.’ Jim sat down.

  Stan shifted awkwardly. ‘It’s where I lived with my other family, sir.’

  Jim rose in a fluid movement. ‘You mean your bit on the side and her bastard offspring? I beg your pardon. I forgot we were being polite about your extramarital arrangements. I mean, your common-law wife and her illegitimate brood. Mr Aitcheson, your remarks suggest you’re in favour of Mrs Hibbert’s returning to her husband, but please consider the impropriety, the injury and the injustice in asking her to move into 14 Vicarage Lane.’

  The room went quiet. Nell held her breath.

  Mr Aitcheson looked at the paper in front of him, as if he had spent the day making important notes. At last he looked up properly, not over his invisible spectacles.

  ‘Of Mr Hibbert’s private life, the less said the better. Whatever justification Mrs Hibbert believed she had in abandoning him, she had no business separating her children from their father. As for telling them their father is dead, that is the act of an unnatural mother. She is fortunate her husband is willing to have her back. If she returns to him, she can live her life in the home, as a decent wife and mother ought, and possibly she will eventually live down her wrong and inappropriate actions.’

  ‘My wrong and inappropriate actions?’ cried Nell. ‘What about Stan’s?’

  ‘Really, Mr Franks, not another fit of the vapours.’

  ‘I apologise.’ Jim looked at her.

  She subsided, but she was seething. Or rather, she tried to seethe. She tried to keep the anger burning, but how could she when she was quaking with fear? This man could order her to return to Stan. Whether she obeyed was another matter, but how could she not obey if Stan was given the children?

  Mr Aitcheson threw down his pen. ‘This woman is a runaway wife and an unnatural mother. As such, she doesn’t merit any special consideration, and yet even she cannot be expected to move into that other female’s house. Mr Hibbert, you must make alternative arrangements to house your family.’ He snapped his fingers in the air. ‘Diary, please.’

  One of the clerks took a book to him. They flicked pages to and fro, whispering as they did so.

  ‘Today is the 1st July,’ said Mr Aitcheson. ‘We shall reconvene on Friday 25th. By that time, Mr Hibbert, I expect you to have made adequate arrangements, so that I can make my decision without any further objections from Mr Franks.’

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  ‘How could you? How could you?’ Through Leonie’s tears, the kitchen blurred as if it was starting to melt. It might as well melt. It wasn’t anything like as smart as her old kitchen. ‘You lied to everyone. You lied to me and Hedley.’

  ‘Aunt Leonie, I’m sorry—’

  ‘Aye, now you’ve been found out. Me and Hedley trusted you; we loved you.’

  Nell squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. She looked so vulnerable that Leonie’s heart ached, but she wouldn’t be swayed. She absorbed the ache into her own misery.

  ‘I could never have hoped to live with anyone kinder than you and Mr Brent,’ said Nell.

  ‘You lied all along.’ It all came bubbling up. She couldn’t stop it. ‘I were piggy-in-the-middle for two whole years, I were, between you and Hilda and Edmund. They could see how fond me and Hedley were of you and the children and they weren’t best pleased, I can tell you. The number of times I had to soothe ruffled feathers, and all along you was playing me for a fool.’

  ‘You know that isn’t true. If you and Mr Brent loved me and the kids, we loved you back, and I wasn’t stringing you along.’

  ‘Yes, you were: me, Hedley, the neighbours, the grocer, the milkman, the—’ A laugh burst out of her. ‘I were going to say the window cleaner, but you did tell him, didn’t you? How long has he known?’

  ‘Only since—’

  ‘And there was me thinking he was coming here out of concern for me, but really he was—’

  ‘No,’ Nell exclaimed. ‘Say what you like about me, but I won’t hear a word against him. He never knew a thing until I had the letter from the court. Without him there today, I’d be packing to go to Annerby now; either that or I’d have lost the children if I wouldn’t go back to Stan. How do you think that feels? I know you’re hurt and angry and you’ve every right to be; but I’m hurt and angry too after what Stan put me through today. Maybe you think I deserve it, and maybe you’re right, but it still hurts.’

  They stared at one another across the table. Across it. That said a lot. Normally they cosied up, side by side, enjoying a good natter or sharing their woes, supporting one another like … like family.

  ‘Don’t turn this round,’ Leonie hissed. What was she saying? She loved Nell. But she couldn’t help it. It wasn’t just Nell and the lies and the disgrace. It was everything, flaming everything. ‘Don’t make out we should all be sorry for you. Do you have any idea what I did today? And I did it partly because of you, because
how could I encourage you to make amends with your black sheep brother-in-law if I wasn’t prepared to go cap in hand to Edmund? Practically prostrated myself on the floor, I did, and he walked all over me an’ all. None of that would have happened without you and your so-called family feud.’

  ‘I’m sorry you’ve had a bad day, but—’

  ‘But what? It wasn’t as bad as yours?’ The gristle in her bones popped with indignation. ‘That’s probably true, and you know why? Because I’m a decent, honest body and I don’t keep secrets, not like some folk what tell great hairy lies and then have a three-act drama when the truth spills out.’

  A brisk tattoo on the front door brought them both to their feet.

  ‘That’ll be your solicitor, I suppose, come to see how his client is.’

  Emotion propelled Leonie down the hall to fling open the door. She blinked. Not Jim.

  ‘Oh!’

  The soft cry came from behind her. She looked over her shoulder, a pang spearing through her at the sight of the naked anguish in Nell’s face. She and Hedley had given heart and home to this lass and she had deceived them from start to finish. Leonie rounded on the Hibbert man.

  ‘If I had the carving knife in my hand, I’d stab you in the heart.’ She snatched her popping-next-door shawl from the peg. ‘I expect you two need to discuss your mucky secrets, so I’ll leave you to it. I’ve got my own muck to sort out.’

  ‘Stan …’ Nell faltered. ‘Aunt Leonie, don’t go,’ but it was too late; Leonie was marching, rigid-backed, up Wilton Lane. Nell glared at Stan. ‘Haven’t you done enough damage for one day?’

  ‘What sort of a greeting is that after the magistrate as good as said you had to come back to your husband?’

  ‘Shut up!’

  Mrs O’Rourke and Mrs Dunnett were chatting in the street, or rather not chatting but frankly staring.

  Mrs O’Rourke came forward. ‘Are you all right, love? Only I couldn’t help overhearing.’ She flicked a look at Stan, curious, ready to wade in.

  Nell’s face felt red-raw. ‘It’s fine, thanks.’ She grabbed Stan’s sleeve and yanked him indoors. ‘You’ve just made me the talk of the wash house.’