A Mother's Gift

by Maggie Hope

  Strangely, Mary Anne found she didn’t hate Kate. She couldn’t help liking her really. The way she had stood up to the family that morning, her chin held high. Her daughter’s too. Kate had been a born nurse too, quick to anticipate the patient’s wants and so very kind. At least she had been so with her. No, Mary Anne thought, Matthew must have been the one who did the chasing. He must have been very different with Kate Benfield than he had been with his wife.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

  ‘Come in,’ she called and Robert stepped into the room.

  ‘You weren’t asleep, Mother, were you?’

  Mary Anne smiled. ‘No. I’m glad you looked in. You know I love to see you.’

  ‘You will be tired though after today. I’ll just say goodnight and leave you to sleep.’

  ‘Don’t go for a minute,’ said Mary Anne. ‘I wanted to ask you something.’

  Robert paused and looked down at her and she smiled. He was a lovely boy Robert, oh yes indeed he was, she thought. Her mind touched on her other son, Bertram, as it did so often when she was with Robert. Their natures were so very different. With luck Bertram would grow more like Robert than his father, she thought sadly but without much hope.

  ‘When you go to live in Whitworth Hall would you mind if I came with you? I know men your age don’t want their mothers living with them, but I could live in the cottage in the grounds, couldn’t I? Once it’s done up. I know building materials are in short supply, but—’

  ‘Mother, of course you can. And Maisie too. You can live in the house as long as you wish. I’d like that. But I thought you felt you should stay here with Bertram.’

  ‘I could come back during the holidays for Bertram, couldn’t I? It’s just one more year then I suppose he’ll be off to university.’

  ‘Mother, perhaps we shouldn’t rush to make plans. It’s early days yet.’

  ‘Oh Robert, if you knew how much I have hated living in this house,’ Mary Anne sighed as he bent to kiss her cheek.

  ‘Goodnight mother. You need to rest,’ he said. As he went out of the room he heard her murmur something else. ‘What did you say, Mother?’

  ‘Nothing, son. Goodnight.’

  Now I’m free, he thought she had said. As he went to his own room he decided he must have misheard. He passed Maisie’s room and paused, wondering whether to go in. But there was no sound so he went on.

  Maisie was awake, however. She was sitting by the window looking out at the night sky as she did most nights since Geoffrey had been killed. In her nightie and robe with her hair down her back she looked different somehow, younger. Her hair gleamed a little in the moonlight coming in at intervals between the scudding clouds and, loose, it softened her face, emphasising her high forehead and well-shaped mouth.

  ‘It’s your money and position he’s after,’ her stepfather had sneered. ‘It certainly can’t be your beauty.’ He had laughed as her face coloured up and her eyes prickled with tears. Oh, how she hated the ever-ready tears, they had been the scourge of her life. And no matter how she had tried, she couldn’t stop them. As a child she had learned to keep in the background, especially when her stepfather was around. But Geoffrey had brought her out of herself. She had met him when she was walking in the park which surrounded the Hall. Her stepfather was home, so she had walked longer than she normally would and ended up sitting on the boundary fence for there was nowhere else to sit. And Geoffrey had walked by on the path on the other side. He was in his RAF uniform and incredibly handsome. She couldn’t believe it when he stopped and spoke to her, treated her as though she were any young girl, attractive even. She began to feel alive in the following weeks.

  Well, he had been killed, Maisie thought as she closed the curtains and climbed into bed. But at least she had her memories. Geoffrey had thought she was someone special, he loved her no matter what her stepfather said.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  ‘SO YOU SEE, I’m going to Durham. It’s all arranged,’ said Georgina. Julia Wentworth looked at her in concern.

  ‘But you were so set on Oxford,’ she said. ‘Is there no way you can still manage to go there?’

  The two girls were riding along the firm sands at Saltburn at the head of a group of younger girls from school. Riding was part of the curriculum at The Towers School and Georgina usually looked forward to it. Though now, as the summer season got under way, there were more trippers on the beach and they had to take their lesson early in the morning.

  Not that she minded that, especially not today. It was a bright morning with the sun causing the sea to sparkle like diamante. She nudged her horse into the waves until his feet were covered, that was what he loved. She; turned to her friend to reply.

  ‘Oh, I don’t mind, once I’d thought about it. I will be able to come home more and now that my mother is on her own, it’s probably for the best.’

  Julia was the only person Georgina had confided in, poured out everything to. She had been a; little hesitant about it but she had to tell someone or she felt she would burst.

  The two girls halted and turned in the saddle to wait for the others to catch up before they led the way up the sands and off the beach to the stables. Georgina led her horse into his stall and worked silently rubbing him down, giving him hay. After the turmoil of the past week at home she was glad to get back to some sort of normality. Here she could pretend that nothing had changed, she would go home for the holidays and Father would come home from his business if only for a day or two. Only now she knew he was as likely to have come from his legitimate family as his business and that was why he was absent so often. And the knowledge made her boil with fury.

  ‘You should have told me,’ she had said to Kate. ‘I should have known, I feel a fool for not realising anyway.’ She should have realised what it was that was strange about her family. She hadn’t been that ignorant of the world. She’d been a fool all right.

  ‘I was going to as soon as you were old enough. And then it just wasn’t the right time.’ Kate had bitten her bottom lip. ‘I haven’t done right by you, have I, pet?’ she asked.

  Georgina gazed at her. ‘Oh, I don’t know. It wasn’t your fault really.’ Still, though she knew in her heart that was true, she felt some resentment towards her mother. But still, she was her mother and she loved her.

  Kate had told her everything now. All about her grandfather and Billy being killed in the pit. And about her gran, how she had loved her gran. ‘I was off my head for a while after the disaster,’ she said sadly.

  ‘And Father took advantage of it,’ said Georgina bitterly.

  ‘Well—’ said Kate, looking unsure.

  ‘Oh, Mam, you know he did,’ said Georgina.

  ‘Still, he loved me,’ said Kate.

  ‘He had a fine way of showing it. Keeping you hidden away, something he could take out when he felt like it, a favourite toy.’

  ‘Don’t talk about your father like that,’ Kate said sharply. ‘It was as much my fault as his. I was weak. I should have had more backbone.’

  Georgina had left it at that. What was the point in dragging things up now? It was history, nothing could change it. And it hurt.

  She went back to school for the last few weeks to sit her Higher Certificate of Education. Georgina had always had the ability to concentrate on whatever she was doing at the moment and she was reasonably sure she had done as well as was expected of her. Now it was the last week of term and she would be leaving The Towers School for the last time the day after tomorrow.

  ‘I can’t wait to be finished with school,’ said Julia as they walked back to the main school. ‘We’re going to France in August for a whole month! And my cousins will be there for part of the time at least. I wish you could have come, Georgina, my cousin Maurice has taken a liking to you. He just needs a little encouragement.’

  ‘I’m not interested in boys, there’s plenty of time for that,’ said Georgina. She had met Maurice at Christmas when he had s
tayed with Julia’s family and she had gone over there on Boxing Day. He was a nice enough boy and she was interested in his stories of university life – he was in his second year at Cambridge. Oh yes, she had liked him, even been attracted to him but she had too many plans of her own to let a boy get in the way of them. She was going to be a great mathematician.

  A picture of Robert Richards rose in her mind, she wasn’t going to let him get in her way either. He was an arrogant sort of man and she had the feeling he would try to take over from her father. But she was determined not to let him. She was quite capable of managing her own future, thank you.

  The last day of term came and for Georgina the while day was ruined at breakfast time. As she came downstairs she was startled to see some of the girls looking at her strangely. A group was huddled in a corner of the hall and when they saw her one held her hand over her mouth and giggled and the giggle was echoed by the others. Mystified, Georgina took her place at the table and the mystery was solved. There was a copy of a local newspaper on her plate and the headlines, two inches high, proclaimed ‘LOCAL IRONMASTER’S LOVE NEST ON THE MOORS’.

  There was a pounding in her ears; she didn’t even notice the whispering around her as she read the text below the caption. It was all there but twisted nastily. How her mother was from a mining village and a scheming hussy who had snared Matthew Hamilton while she was nursing his wife who had had a miscarriage.

  ‘The astonishing fact is, Hamilton kept his mistress and illegitimate daughter hidden on the moors. It is understood that the girl is bright and is being educated at The Towers School where the governors and staff had no idea she was the daughter of the Matthew Hamilton, the successful businessman. His two families lived only a few miles apart yet he managed to keep the second secret from the first.’

  A note was pushed into Georgina’s hand, she took it automatically. Opening it she read, ‘Georgina Hamilton, you’re a tart’s daughter. I bet you don’t feel so high and mighty now, with your scholarship to Oxford.’

  ‘A tart’s daughter, a tart’s daughter, is you a tart too?’ someone said and the words ran round the table amid fits of giggles. Georgina picked up the paper and stood up. She tore it into pieces and flung them down and marched out of the dining-room and the giggles followed her.

  ‘Georgie! Georgie! Don’t go, wait for me. They’re a rotten lot of cats!’ Julia had come after her and caught her up just outside the door.

  ‘You must have told them!’ cried Georgina. ‘You, it must have been you!’

  ‘No, I didn’t,’ Julia said, ‘I—’

  ‘What are you two girls doing out here? Come inside at once, can you not hear the racket going on? You should be stopping it, I know it’s the end of term and you’re leaving but you are in positions of responsibility.’

  It was Miss Johnson, just coming into the dining-room followed by the rest of the staff. Georgina looked at her dumbly then fled not looking back even when the headmistress called after her.

  Her cases were already packed, her trunk had been sent on the day before. All she had to do was pick up the cases and leave. She ignored all attempts to stop her by the staff and Julia and ran down the stairs and out on to the street, making for the station. It was only a few minutes away and there was a train standing in. She flung the cases into an empty carriage and climbed in after them. As it chugged out of the station she saw Miss Johnson charge on to the platform and run after the train but she was too late. Georgina had left The Towers School and she was never ever going back.

  Georgina walked up the track from Roseley. She felt she needed not only the fresh moorland air in her lungs but also the time to think of how she was going to tell her mother that their story was in the newspapers for all to read. Apart from her brief time working in the nursing home during the war, and that was a few years ago now, Kate had been isolated from the world. Would she be able to take being in the limelight? Oh it was true that the papers would soon forget the story, at least, something else would take its place.

  Georgina knew from the newspaper story that there had been reporters at the cottage, asking questions of Dorothy and Kate. It must have been such a shock. Well, now she was here to fend them off, the interfering nosey parkers.

  Her cases were becoming very heavy, she dumped them at the side of the track behind a clump of gorse. Not that there was likely to be any people about, no, they had been and done their worst, she thought savagely.

  ‘I’ll take them in the jeep.’

  The voice seemed to come out of nowhere. Georgina jumped and whirled about. She hadn’t even heard the jeep as it laboured across the uneven ground for she had been too engrossed in her own angry thoughts.

  ‘They are all right where they are, thank you,’ she snapped. But Robert Richards was jumping down from the jeep and striding over to her.

  ‘Don’t be silly, Georgina,’ he said, as though she were a fractious child. He picked up the cases and swung them easily into the back of the vehicle. ‘Come on, get in.’ He got behind the wheel again and looked impatiently at her. ‘Get in, I haven’t all day to mess about in this godforsaken place.’

  Georgina found herself climbing into the jeep though she had had no intention of accepting a lift. Robert Richards was that sort of a man, she thought. Well, he wasn’t going to boss her about as he seemed to do with his younger brother, she told herself, treat her like a child. It was just that she was beginning to feel tired, that was all. It was a long hike to the cottage.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked baldly as they bumped along to the rise where the track ran out. ‘We’ll have to walk from the road end,’ she added.

  ‘No we won’t,’ said Robert. ‘I’ve tackled worse terrain than this in a jeep.’ And so he had, he thought, a picture of the North African desert coming to mind. Sure enough he drove right up to the front gate of the cottage with no trouble.

  There was a closed-up look about the place. Usually in summer the front door stood open but now it was firmly shut. But suddenly it was flung open and Kate came out on to the path, arms akimbo.

  ‘I told you lot yesterday I had nothing to say to you! Now you’d better be ganning before I get the polis on you. Oh! It’s you, Georgie, what the heck are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting you till this afternoon. And you, what do you want with me?’ This last was addressed to Robert as she suddenly recognised who he was.

  ‘Well, that’s a real northern welcome!’ said Robert dryly. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me in Miss Benfield?’ He couldn’t help noticing how lovely she looked with her cheeks flushed with anger and her eyes flashing.

  ‘My name is Hamilton; it was changed by deed poll years ago, Matthew saw to it. And Georgie is a Hamilton too, it’s on her birth certificate.’ Kate stared at Robert her chin lifted. He wasn’t going to put her down, indeed he was not, and not on her own ground any road.

  ‘Oh Mam, we may as well go inside,’ said Georgie. She was weary of it all suddenly. And if there were reporters lurking about on the moor she didn’t want to see them.

  ‘Howay then,’ said Kate. ‘Let’s hear what you have to say, Robert Richards. We might as well get it over with.’

  Inside, Dorothy was hovering in the tiny hall, looking anxious. ‘Will you make some tea, Dorothy?’ asked Kate. ‘It’s all right, this is Mr Hamilton’s stepson.’

  ‘No tea for me,’ said Robert.

  ‘Oh, please yourself.’ Kate led the way into the sitting-room. ‘Now, as I said before, why are you here?’

  ‘I want to know who is responsible for telling The Recorder,’ said Robert. ‘And if it was either of you, and I strongly suspect it was, do you realise what harm you may have done the family? Not to mention the business!’ He didn’t raise his voice but his tone was hard, cutting almost.

  ‘You’re a fool if you think it was me or my Georgie,’ snapped Kate. ‘I was pestered all day yesterday; I couldn’t come outside of my own front door. Why should I speak to reporters, for God’s sake? Did you read w
hat they said about me and the lass? Did you? They pushed a copy through the letterbox this morning and were shouting through it, asking what I had to say about it. A tart they branded me, and my Georgie a tart’s daughter. Do you think I wanted that?’

  ‘I didn’t think you’d care,’ he replied. After all, that’s what you are isn’t it?’

  Georgina snapped. ‘Don’t you talk to my mother like that!’ she shouted. ‘It wasn’t her fault, he made her do it. He ran after her, he—’

  ‘Oh? And how did he do that?’ asked Robert. He looked mildly interested, as though he was asking about the weather. ‘He didn’t tie her up and kidnap her, did he?’

  ‘No, but—’

  ‘Oh, for the love of God, stop it!’ said Kate. ‘Georgina, keep out of this or you can go into the kitchen and help Dorothy. And you,’ she rounded on Robert. ‘You watch your tongue or get out of my house!’

  ‘I’m going. I only came to say that if either of you talk to the press ever again, say one word to them, I’ll blacken your names until you won’t dare show your faces anywhere. And don’t think I can’t do it. What’s more, we will contest my stepfather’s will and make sure you don’t get a penny, either of you. Now, have I made myself clear?’ He looked from one to the other, Kate was livid, her face white as a sheet and Georgina was quivering with rage. But Kate put a hand on her arm warning her to stay silent.

  ‘Are you finished?’ she asked. ‘Then get out.’

  ‘Good day to you both,’ said Robert and his tone was almost pleasant. It changed, however, as he went out into the hall and opened the door and a flash bulb exploded in his face. He strode up the path and grabbed at the camera and threw it down on the ground.