by Rosie Clarke
‘I’ve been keeping that shop for you, Mrs Johnson. This is most inconvenient.’
‘I could pay you for six weeks now – and perhaps you could let it again.’
‘Well …’ he sounded a bit odd. ‘Supposing you give me two months now and we’ll call that quits, but when Mr Johnson signed the lease he did promise he would pay for the whole six months even if he closed the shop. It was the reason I let him take it on.’
‘Yes, I know,’ Emily said and then something struck her. Christopher had signed the lease not Emily – so perhaps she wasn’t liable at all? ‘My husband is dead as you know – so I think if I pay six weeks, which is what we owe you from the time of his death, my obligation is over. I didn’t sign anything, Mr Hadden.’
He looked at her as if he could cheerfully strangle her but grunted his assent and Emily knew she was right. She’d paid the money owed, as was correct, but there was no reason why she should pay more as she had not signed the lease. The three pounds she’d paid him was more than she could truly afford, but Emily would make certain all their debts were paid before she left for London.
Mr Hadden owned several shops in Ely, besides being one of several butchers in the small city. He was a wealthy man and she was certain that he would re-let the shop within a short time. Her business done, she walked the length of the High Street, passing the Cathedral Mews, to the hill, where Woolworth was situated and on to the pub halfway down.
She saw that the pub had a closed notice on the door and hesitated before lifting the knocker. She rapped three times, her heart racing as she wondered whether Ma would answer. Hearing a lock being turned, her breath caught and she was taut with tension as the door opened. For a moment Ma stared at her, the hatred in her eyes so strong that Emily wondered if she would slam the door in her face.
‘You’d better come in,’ Ma said and stood back.
Emily followed her inside. The place smelled of spilt beer and something less pleasant, which turned her stomach. She was shocked that her once house-proud mother could have allowed the pub to become so dirty. She’d expected it to be scrubbed and clean, as their kitchen at home had always been. Looking at her mother’s back, she saw that her dress looked creased and dirty, as if that too needed a good wash.
Ma led the way upstairs, away from the strong odours of beer and cigarette smoke and what Emily strongly suspected was the stench from the lavatories at the back of the pub. The parlour upstairs was better in that it did not smell so much, but it was untidy and the furniture was dingy, as though it hadn’t been polished in ages.
Feeling shocked, Emily’s gaze went to the child lying on the floor. His eyes looked dull and he was crying and his nose needed wiping. She hardly recognised her little brother and suddenly she was angry. He had clearly been neglected and looked dirty, as if he hadn’t been washed in days. Bending down, she picked Jack up and cradled him in her arms. He stopped crying, put his thumb in his mouth and looked at her, as if wondering who she was. Emily took out her handkerchief and wiped his nose. She looked at her mother, accusation in her eyes.
‘He needs to be changed. He’s wet himself.’ She shook her head in disgust. ‘Surely he should have been out of nappies by now. Is he walking yet?’
Her brother was three years old but, although he’d grown, he seemed still a baby, unable to do much for himself. His manner was listless and he just lay on a mat, whimpering to himself.
‘The brat always needs something,’ Ma said and glared at her. ‘If he isn’t hungry he’s messed himself. I never knew a child to take so long to be potty trained, but he’s slow in the head that’s what he is! I should’ve drowned him at birth – all men should be drowned at birth.’ The bitterness poured out of her, as if a flood tide had been turned on. ‘Bloody men – none of them are worth a piss …’ Sitting down hard in a sagging chair, Ma burst into tears, her head bent. ‘I loved him, gave him everything – and what did he do? He took every penny I had, hit me when I dared to challenge him and then …’ Ma looked up at her. ‘Now he’s dead – dead because he ran from the bloody police. They say he murdered that girl in Witchford …’ She shook her head. ‘Derek wouldn’t … not that …’
‘He was seeing Carla. I’m nearly sure it was Derek that killed her. When he attacked Miss Lizzie I accused him of it and he went mad,’ Emily said. ‘He would have raped me if Pa hadn’t stopped him, remember.’
She left her mother to cry it out and went through to what looked like Jack’s bedroom, because his dirty clothes were strewn everywhere. After stripping away his soiled underclothes, she washed his poor sore little bottom in the washbasin, then dried his skin, found a pot of cream in the cupboard on the wall and soothed it over him. Then she hunted through the chest of drawers to find some clothes, which looked as if they might be clean, before dressing her brother. He smiled at her, holding out his arms and said what might have been her name. Jack ought to be talking properly now and running around, but it was obvious that no one had bothered to teach him anything. Emily was swamped with guilt. She’d thought about her brother from time to time, but she’d assumed that her mother would look after him. She hadn’t dreamed that the child was being mistreated this way. If she’d known … but what could she have done?
‘You’re thinking I’ve neglected him,’ Ma’s voice said from behind her. ‘I’ve had to work all hours to try and keep this place going – and for what? No one will come here now. I shall have to let it go … go away somewhere no one knows me.’
‘And what will you do then? I never thought you were a coward, Ma.’ Stella looked at her, cheeks flaming. ‘What good will it do to run away? You should stay here. You paid good money for the lease – what will happen if you leave Ely? How will you live then?’
‘You tell me, clever boots.’ Ma sagged against the wall, all the fight drained out of her. ‘You’re all right. They will take you back at the manor. You could get a job anywhere. I can’t run this place alone and care for Jack. It was hard enough when Derek was alive; it would be impossible without him.’
Emily stared at her in silence for a long moment. She knew what her mother was asking her – she was trying to make Emily help her. All her instincts rebelled against it. She would be a fool to throw her life away … she had her own plans. Yet as she looked from her mother’s defeated eyes to her little brother she knew that she didn’t have a choice. If she walked out and left them, Jack’s condition would just get worse and worse. In the end he might suffer a miserable death from neglect. It was her duty to care for him, however much she might dislike and distrust her mother.
At last, reluctantly, she said, ‘You don’t have to. I can help you. With a good scrub from top to bottom we could make this place the sort people want to drink at.’
In the silence that fell after her words, Emily cursed herself. What on earth had made her say such a thing? She was going to London to join a voluntary service … but how could she leave Jack to a life of misery? He was her half-brother and Stella was her mother, even though she’d sworn she would never forgive her for stealing her inheritance and taking Derek’s side against her.
‘Why?’ Ma asked in a hard tone. ‘Why would you do that for me?’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘No, not for me – it would be for Jack, wouldn’t it? You think I can’t be trusted to look after him, don’t you?’
Now was the time to walk away and leave Ma to go to Hell in her own way. Emily wanted to do it. She hated the stench of this place, which she knew would take days of scrubbing to remove. She didn’t want to live with Ma or to devote her time to caring for a public house – but she couldn’t abandon the child to a mother who had forgotten how to care for him.
‘Well, can you? I can help you turn this place around – but not if you don’t want me here. I had other plans, but for Jack’s sake I’ll move into the spare room, bring my stuff from the cottage here – and I’ll clean this place up while you take care of Jack. Once it’s clean we’ll open for business again, and we’ll serve bar food. If it sells we might start d
oing a proper lunch – but we’ll see how it goes.’
‘And if no one comes?’
‘We’ll have to sell the lease – but there will be more chance of getting your money back if it’s clean.’
Ma gave her a shame-faced look. ‘I couldn’t do it all alone – you don’t know what it was like. What he was like …’
‘I think I do,’ Emily said and looked her in the eyes. Her mother stared at her for a moment and then her eyes dropped. ‘I’m willing to give it a try – if you are?’
Ma was silent for a long moment then inclined her head. ‘Don’t have much choice, do I?’
‘Neither of us does,’ Emily said. ‘I’ll make a start on the living accommodation today. Tomorrow I’ll arrange for my things to be brought here and I’ll move in – and then I’ll scrub the downstairs until that stink has gone.’
‘It comes back,’ Ma said looking sullen. ‘I tried at the start, Emily. It got on top of me.’
‘Once we can encourage a different class of client to drink here it should be better. All we can do is try – and you’ll have to do your share. For a start you could put a clean dress on and take Jack out for a walk in the park while I sort this mess out.’
Ma’s eyes narrowed and Emily thought she would refuse, but instead she went through into the hall. Emily heard water splashing as her mother began to tidy herself up in the tiny bathroom. She started picking up the old newspapers, bits of stale food and ashtrays that were overflowing with stubs. She discovered a paper sack in one of the rooms and stuffed all the rubbish she found into it. There must be a dustbin in the yard at the back, where she could get rid of anything she thought ought to be dumped.
She’d already tidied the sitting room when Ma reappeared. She’d put on a long dark skirt and a cream blouse, brushed her hair back and fastened it with combs, and was carrying a warm red wool jacket. Now Ma looked like the woman Emily had known and she nodded approvingly. Ma took Jack’s hand and, telling Emily she’d be about an hour, she went out.
Emily opened some windows to let in fresh air; glancing out she saw her mother and brother walk to the bottom of the hill and turn left. The entrance to the park was halfway along Broadstreet and all the locals went there, even though the land actually belonged to the cathedral. She turned away to look about her, seeing the dirty clothes strewn over chairs and lying on the floor.
She would need some polish to brighten the furniture. Her mother’s room was the first bedroom. Next to that was the tiny room where Jack slept; there were two more. One was empty of furniture and looked out over the back yard, and the second had obviously been Derek’s and had the best view of next door’s garden. She closed the door on that, because she didn’t feel like clearing her uncle’s things out just yet. Emily would put her own furniture in the empty room, even though it was smaller than the one that had been her uncle’s. For the moment that door would simply remain closed.
After tidying both bedrooms, Emily took all the dirty clothes she could find downstairs. Once again the stench of the pub hit her, making her gag, but she tried to ignore it as she went through to the kitchen at the back. It was a large room with two oak dressers and several cupboards. There was a huge pine table in the middle and an assortment of chairs, most of them from Pa’s cottage. Ma’s collection of china was set out on one of the dressers and a hotchpotch of china on the other. Besides the large black range there was a modern gas cooker. Emily eyed it doubtfully. Mrs Hattersley had denounced them as tools of the Devil and vowed she’d never have one in her kitchen, but Emily thought a gas cooker might be better in the summer because the kitchen often became too hot unless lots of windows were opened.
The range was still going, though it needed to be banked up. Emily did this and put two kettles on to boil. Behind the large kitchen was a small scullery. She found a copper in the corner and fetched three buckets of water. Having filled the copper, she lit some paper and wood underneath it to heat the water and then added soda she found lying on a table nearby. She dumped all the clothes in to let them have a good soak. Tomorrow she would wash the clothes and put them outside to dry in the small yard at the rear of the pub.
One of the kettles had heated sufficiently. Emily carried it upstairs with a bucket, scrubbing brush, a cloth and some strong soap. Ma had everything she needed in her cupboards for cleaning; she just hadn’t bothered recently.
Emily scrubbed the wooden boards in the three bedrooms they would use and took the dirty water into the toilet, tipping it down the washbasin and rinsing. Then she took the bowls back to the kitchen and returned with the polish and rags. The polish would brighten dull wood and the scent of lavender would make the rooms sweeter. Almost two hours later, she had just about finished to her satisfaction when the door opened and Ma entered with Jack. She’d bought him a lollipop, probably from the sweet shop in Broadstreet, and he was sucking contentedly.
Ma glanced about her, a look of shame on her face. ‘You’ve made a difference here, Emily. It hasn’t looked or smelled like this for months.’
‘I’m going home now,’ Emily said and reached for her coat. ‘I shall make arrangements to move into the spare room. My stuff will come tomorrow if I can arrange it or as soon as I can. I’ll start downstairs in the morning.’
‘What do you want me to do?’
‘Look after Jack for now and have a rest. Once we open again you’ll have enough to do – though I’ll be getting us some help. A strong lad to help with the barrels and a girl to help in the bar and with serving the meals.’
‘Do you have enough money to employ staff?’
‘I think I can manage, at least for long enough to get us started. I have some things I can sell if I need to – and I still have money I saved.’
Emily decided not to mention what her father had given her. Ma might resent the fifty pounds, though she’d stolen the rest of what Pa had left Emily.
‘Thank you. I don’t deserve this …’
Emily dropped to her knees and kissed Jack’s cheek. ‘You might not,’ she said, ‘but he deserves better. He’s my brother and you’re my mother. I’ll do what I can for you both – but if it doesn’t work out we’ll have to think again.’
Leaving the pub, Emily made a mental note of all she had to do when she got back to the cottage. She would need to pack as much as she could carry to bring with her in the morning, and the rest of her stuff would go into boxes and bags. Sir Arthur had told her that one of his men would help her move her stuff to the barn. What she needed to decide was what she wanted to store and what to take with her. She would need her bed, wardrobe and chest of drawers. She also wanted her rocking chair from the kitchen, and the kitchen table and chairs would go well in the large bar, which she planned to turn into an area for dining. Her wine table would go in her room, and she would want all her personal bits and pieces, especially the things Pa had given her. The furniture Mr Johnson had bought could go into the barn, together with Emily’s dresser – which was too good to put in the pub, at least until she was certain it was a success.
Her head filled with plans, she was home before she knew it. She made herself a cup of tea, some toast and scrambled egg with bacon. All that hard work had brought back her appetite and she was feeling better than she had since Christopher died. Even the feeling of guilt had faded into a dull ache. It wasn’t really her fault that her husband had died alone. Emily hadn’t realised it could happen and Christopher had told her to go and visit her friends.
At least he’d been happy the night before he died. He’d held her and loved her, and she would hold that memory and forget the pain of his sudden death. She had to move on and make her new life work – for her brother’s sake and for her own.
Her plans for working in London had had to be shelved, but perhaps it wasn’t important. She would have been late volunteering and perhaps they wouldn’t have wanted her – and then she would have ended up back at the manor.
Now at least she had the chance to run her own business. Em
ily hadn’t been confident enough to run the second-hand shop alone, but one thing both she and Ma could do was cook and serve drinks. If they had someone to help in the bar it should be manageable. Once Emily had finished scrubbing and cleaning, she would whitewash the walls and get someone to paint the old beams with a topcoat of black.
She was smiling as she started to pack her clothes, linen and china into boxes. Christopher had given her several lovely things. If she’d opened the shop she would have had to sell them to keep it going, but now she could keep them. They would brighten up her room, and in time she might use some of the pewter and copper downstairs. In her mind, Emily could see an oak dresser in the large bar set with tankards for special customers and jugs of flowers. She had plenty of pretty jugs with little cracks that wouldn’t matter if someone accidentally broke one. Yes, she could just picture the pub – how it could look if she had her way.
Of course, she had to hope that people would come in and order drinks and food, because if they didn’t Ma would need to sell the lease. At least if the pub looked special, someone would want to buy the lease – wouldn’t they?
Emily had to believe they would, because she had nothing else. Ma couldn’t manage alone, and Jack needed a loving sister to take care of and love him. He had to be encouraged to walk and to speak, and he must learn to use his potty. Her heart broke for the way he’d been left dirty, hungry and wet since she’d gone to work at the manor. Emily had always had Pa’s love even if her mother hadn’t been kind to her. Jack hadn’t had anyone to love him until now – but now he had Emily and she had no intention of deserting him.
Somehow she would make a good life for them all, with or without her mother’s help.
Chapter 44
‘If Jack isn’t any better by the morning I shall take him to the doctor,’ Emily said, listening anxiously to her brother’s dry cough. ‘He’s had this too long and I’m worried about him.’
‘You fuss over him too much,’ Ma said. ‘He will be perfectly all right.’