‘Mmm?’ She had opened her bureau and with one hand began to sift through an untidy sheaf of papers, the other bringing the glass to her lips.
‘I said ye can’t be too busy if ye found time to come home.’
She gave a sharp laugh. ‘I came home because I’d left some papers I needed in here. I would’ve been gone half an hour ago if you hadn’t detoured me about Erin.’
‘So busy, yet ye found the time to speak to me about our family. I should be flattered.’ He tipped the glass into his mouth, emptying it.
She continued to search for the document she required. ‘Sarcasm seems to be a trait of this family lately. Don’t think it’ll draw me into another argument, I’ve been longer than I meant to be already. Why aren’t you at work, anyway?’
‘Work?’ He gave a brittle laugh. ‘What work? All I am is a wet-nurse these days.’ At first Patrick had grown his produce by his own steam with only occasional help from an old molecatcher who had since died. At Thomasin’s insistence he had taken on a labourer, and then another, and another… Now he had only to supervise while the others dirtied their hands. He supposed some men would be grateful, but it was not what he had intended when he had purchased that first strip of earth. Patrick liked to get his hands dirty, liked to feel the sweat trickle between his shoulderblades, the pull on his muscles as he rammed his spade into the earth. It was sexual; a love affair with nature. One would think that with the amount of land he had accumulated the consummation would be frequent, but in fact it was very rare nowadays, as rare as that which took place in his marriage bed. A master wasn’t meant to work alongside his men; it was indecent somehow.
‘Anyone would think there was some great sin in being an employer.’ She put aside the glass to concentrate on the bundle of documents in her hand, straightening them as she worked. ‘Besides, you can’t expect to be doing a lot of physical work at your age.’
‘I’m not that old!’
‘Of course you’re not, dear.’ She threw the tidied papers into a jumble again, rummaging through the bureau. ‘But – ah! here’s what I’m looking for.’ She stuffed the rest of the papers into untidy wads and closed the flap on them. ‘I can’t think why you’re complaining, Pat. Some men would give pounds to be in your position.’
‘Well, I like to feel as though I’m doing something useful,’ he said emphatically, ‘an’ being nursemaid to a load o’ fellas doesn’t fit that. So… I thought I might as well come home, the good I was doing. There’s a fair on, an’ I could take the children.’
‘You don’t need to tell me there’s a fair on,’ said his wife cryptically. Her store was in the same thoroughfare in which the festivities were held. ‘What a time my delivery wagons have had trying to get through that lot. I don’t know whether to give my customers their requirements or hand them hoops and let them lasso their own.’ She pulled on her muslin gloves, ready to return to the store.
‘I was hopin’ ye might like to join us.’
‘What! You must have a slate loose. I don’t have time to go gadding off to the fair. I have to be there to see that those workmen who’re putting in the new fittings don’t have too many breaks.’
‘Is that all that’s stopping ye?’
‘No, I’ve got to sort out the staff rota for stock-taking.’
‘Look, I didn’t intend going to the fair until after lunch. Surely ye can take a little time off – just an hour – to spare for your grandchildren – if not for your husband. It’s been ages since we’ve taken them out together, Tommy.’ She faltered at the accusatory note. Then, ‘All right,’ she decided impulsively. ‘I’ll go with you.’ His face broke into the old crinkly smile. ‘Providing you meet me at the store. I haven’t time to be running backwards and forwards.’
‘Grand!’ He put down the glass and rubbed his hands. ‘Listen, d’ye think we should ask Erin to let Belle come with us? The poor child needs a treat.’
‘Since when has a father asked his daughter if he can do something? Just tell her to have Belle ready and that will be that.’ She left him in good spirits.
But that wasn’t that, as far as Erin was concerned. ‘Ye want me to instruct Mr Ingleton that his services aren’t required this afternoon because his pupil’s gone to the fair!’ she challenged disbelievingly.
‘Erin, ’tis only for a couple of hours,’ coaxed her father. ‘I can’t see what difference that’s going to make to her education.’
‘No, you wouldn’t, Father,’ she replied strongly. ‘Ye think I’m wasting time an’ money by educating a female anyway, don’t ye?’
Patrick retained his good nature. ‘It’s your money and she’s your daughter, Erin, ’tis not for me to comment on how ye bring her up – though I do think you’re being a wee bit heavy-handed in your enthusiasm. That child hasn’t had one day out since all this started. All work an’ no play, ye know… ’Tis time Belle had a chance to enjoy herself after all her hard work.’
‘Ye seem to think it’s some sort of enforced labour I’m putting her through. This is for her, Father, for her future. She’s got nothing going for her but her brain. It has to be put to full use, which it won’t be if you insist on dragging her off to the fair every five minutes.’
Patrick stared at her. He couldn’t believe this was his loving, gentle daughter. After great thought he put a strange question to her. ‘Have ye ever noticed Father Gilchrist’s eyes?’
‘What on earth has that scoundrel got to do with anything?’ demanded Erin.
‘They have this special gleam about them, like someone set fire to his brain.’ He took his daughter by the shoulders and turned her to face the wall. ‘Look in the mirror, Erin. Look closely. Ye’ll see the same gleam there.’
She was shocked that he could liken Father Gilchrist’s fanaticism with her own selfless moulding of her child. ‘Ye think I’m doing this out of ambition?’
‘Erin, muirnin.’ He spoke to her reflection in the ormolued glass, his hands still gripping her shoulders, chin resting atop her neat head. ‘I’d not cast a stain on your motives. I believe ye when ye say this is all done for Belle’s sake. But don’t let your self-sacrifice blinker your good sense. Ye’re still a young and attractive woman. Ye may want to marry again some day, an’ ye give yourself little opportunity by shutting yourself up within your child. This education bit has become an obsession with ye.’
‘I shall never marry again,’ announced Erin with surety. ‘I’m going to dedicate all my energies into ensuring that Belle makes the most of her gift – and the only way she can hope to do that is through hard work.’
‘Erin, ye’re only concentrating on the one side of her make-up. What about her social life? She’s a little child, she should have a chance to play with dolls n’ skipping ropes, not cram her brains full o’ figures all day long. There’s plenty o’ time ahead for education. What point is there in it, anyway?’
Erin made a noise of suppressed fury. ‘I’ll tell ye what point there is! There’s the point that she won’t have to scrub floors like her mother had to do because she was qualified for nothing higher; there’s the point that her learning will take her any place she wants to go and – most valid point of all – with an education such as I intend for her, there’s no one in the world will be able to call her dummy.’
Patrick could see that nothing he had to say would shift his daughter from her entrenched views, but he knew that Erin was trying to enact her own ambition through her child; a mistake for which he could hold himself partly responsible. If only he’d allowed Erin a little schooling… ah, well, it didn’t do to look back all the time. One could see one’s mistakes in retrospect but nothing could be done to rectify them now. But how shallow and arrogant he must have seemed to others as a younger man; the thought tickled the corners of his mouth.
‘And what d’ye find so amusing?’ demanded his daughter.
He started. ‘Oh, not you, colleen – at least not directly. I was just thinking how narrow-minded I was at your age, thoug
ht I knew it all.’
‘You’re accusing me of being narrow-minded?’
‘Perhaps single-minded is a more apt expression. Still as damaging to the people around ye. ’Tis a mistake to try to live your life through your child. There’ll come a day when she’ll want to leave home.’
‘No!’ The response was swift. ‘There’ll be no need. Belle will never marry.’
‘How can ye possibly say that this early?’
‘’Cause I know what people are.’
‘Is that why ye never let her out of the house, because you’re afraid of what people will call her?’ He received no answer. ‘Ye’re doing her no favours, Erin. She’ll have to go into the big world some time. Best let her have a taste of what’s to come while she’s still young enough to accept it philosophically. Children are tougher than we give them credit for. Go on, let her come this afternoon, I’ll take good care of her – or come yourself if ye like. Your mother will be with me.’
She managed a weak smile. ‘That’ll be nice for ye. I’ll wager y’almost forgot ye had a wife.’
‘It will be nice,’ he nodded, then touched her cheek pensively. ‘Ye know, ye mustn’t be too hard on your mother. There’s an unholy scrap going on inside of her. I don’t know what it’s all about but she has to sort it out for herself – as we all do in the end. Now come on, what d’ye say?’
‘Oh… very well! Ye’ve talked me round as usual, you unscrupulous charmer. Belle can come.’ She levelled a finger. ‘But don’t think it’ll be a regular occurrence. Whatever any of ye say or think of me I’ll not waste that child’s brain for anyone.’
* * *
Patrick’s arrival at the store with the children came too early for his wife. ‘Oh, damn,’ she muttered, seeing their boisterous entrance from her position in the counting house which was cut off from the main store by a glass partition. She had hoped to tie up loose ends before leaving George Ackworth in charge for the afternoon. Well, they would just have to dangle now. Placing a weight on the papers that had not yet been cleared she went into the store to meet them, scolding mildly, ‘I wasn’t expecting you so soon. I suppose I shall have to leave the outstanding bills till I come back.’
‘Sorry. Once the brats knew where I was takin’ them it was like trying to control a riot. There’s no rush, you finish what ye have to.’ Patrick looked around the busy shop. ‘No wonder ye can’t find any spare time. I didn’t realise custom was this good.’ The area where he and the children were standing was dedicated mostly to groceries but there was also a bread counter, stocked daily with piping hot loaves, fruit pies and various pastries from the bakery at the rear of the building, though the smell of fresh bread was overpowered at the moment by that of roasting coffee beans.
‘Well, business has been a bit slack but it’s gradually trickling back to normal after the trade recession,’ said Thomasin, sharp eyes wandering, watching her assistants packing customers’ baskets and weighing goods. She made a note to give Mary a talking-to for that missing button on her dress. ‘There was a period when I contemplated closing one of the shops, I might tell you, during that bad do of the Seventies, but the depression appears to have eased. Now… what am I going to do with you four till I’m ready?’
‘Ah sure, don’t concern yourself about us,’ said Patrick lightly. ‘We’ll just take a stroll round your empire.’ He doffed his hat to an exiting customer. ‘Right then, away to your lair an’ us’ll look after ourselves.’
‘And have people say I neglect my husband?’ She spotted the cryptic gleam in his eye and turned quickly, ‘George!’ summoning a young man who tugged at his jacket and came hurrying over. ‘I want you to show my husband round the store,’ Thomasin told him.
‘The new extension too, ma’am?’
‘Yes, and the new bakery – everywhere. Oh, and before I forget, how many of those new pastilles have we left?’ George said there was only what was on the counter. ‘Hm, they’ve been moving like cascara. If the Rowntree man comes in you’d better double our order for that line, it’s a real winner.’ Smiling, she left Patrick and the children in the care of George who asked if they had seen all they wanted to here.
Patrick looked around quizzically. ‘There were some tables here one time where people could take a cup of tea.’
‘Ah, we’ve had a bit of a change round since then, sir. That area’s through the archway now. It got a bit cramped in here what with folk queueing for their goods so Mrs Feeney made what used to be a stockroom into the cafe and put the stock on the third floor. ’Course, now that the missus has made that into a new department she needs somewhere else to shove the stock. That’s why she bought that new warehouse on the river – but you’ll know that already.’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Patrick, not knowing it at all; Thomasin rarely discussed her business moves with him. ‘It sounds as though there’s little room left for you an’ the others.’ George told him the staff didn’t live in. Thomasin, something of a revolutionary in this, had decreed that she wasn’t going to waste good floor space on beds if her assistants could just as well live at home. ‘And does that suit them?’ asked Pat.
‘Oh, that’s not for me to comment,’ replied George hurriedly and moved on to a room where a group of young women were sticking labels on containers.
Nick asked one of the women if he could have a go. She smiled and said he could. ‘Might the young ladies want a go, too?’
Patrick caught her anxious eye as Rosanna undid a sack of currants. ‘Rosie, be a good girl an’ leave things alone that don’t concern ye.’
‘I thought all this belonged to Nan.’ She made a sweeping gesture.
‘It does – an’ ye know how your Nan shouts if she finds ye playin’ with her things at home. Come try your hand with the others.’
‘I’m hungry.’
George, who liked children, dipped into his pocket and produced a bag of boiled sweets. ‘There y’are, miss. Get your teeth round one o’ them.’
Rosanna delved into the bag. ‘May I take two?’
‘Rosanna, don’t be rude,’ scolded Patrick.
‘’Course you can.’ George let her help herself, then offered the bag to the others, giving a special smile to Belle. There was something about this little girl that particularly impressed him but he was damned if he knew what it was. He allowed her to keep the bag, oblivious to the look which Rosie passed to her brother. ‘Shall we let the children stick a few more labels on while we go further, sir?’ He made to lift Belle onto a stool but she pushed him off haughtily. ‘I can do it.’
Nick expressed a keen interest in the workings of the store so, while he went with Patrick and George the girls dabbed paste onto labels and chatted to the women, exchanging names. One of them, Susan Mills, made a quiet aside to her neighbour, but Rosanna caught it.
‘Like what?’
Susan presented a questioning face to the little girl.
‘You said you didn’t think Nan would have a grandchild like that,’ repeated Rosanna. ‘Like what?’
‘I just meant she’s awfully pretty – as you are yourself,’ tendered the woman, then under her breath, ‘Lor’, we’ll have to be careful what we say, this’n’s got lugs like an elephant.’
Rosanna smoothed the label with her small palms. Belle, after doing a few, struggled down from the stool and began to wander around. She, too, had heard the woman’s comment and knew that it was not her prettiness that caused the attention. People always looked at her in an odd way. Soon bored, Rosanna climbed down, too. Thinking she was out of earshot Susan’s partner said, ‘Blimey, you wouldn’t think the missus would be overeager to have her paraded about, her being so keen to whip up custom. Put a lot o’ people off, seeing that while they were tryin’ to do their shoppin’.’
Rosanna tried to untangle the statement. Why didn’t the women like Belle? Come to that, why did everyone seem uneasy in her presence? I mean, she told herself, one could understand either me or Nick being mad at her when we get the blam
e for something she’s done, but not people who had never met her before. The answer was to come.
‘Eh, we’ll have summat to chuck at her the next time she’s gobbin’ off, moanin’ about shoddy work. I’ll say, aye, mebbe we can’t stick labels on straight but we don’t have a bloody hunchback in our family.’
Rosanna sneaked a look at Belle who was patrolling the ranks of produce. There was a sort of mound on one of her shoulders. She had never given it much thought before – but what difference could that make? She listened.
‘Maggie, that’s rotten,’ accused Susan. ‘She’s such a bonny little thing. I think it’s a shame…’
‘Aye well, mistress’s grandbairn or no, she needn’t think she’s hangin’ round here all day. It’ll be bringin’ bad luck on t’place.’
‘You’re gonna tell her then, are you?’ smirked Susan, then shushed her companion as Belle scrambled back up to the table and casually resumed her pasting. ‘Come to do a few more have you, miss? Eh, you’re a right help.’
Belle smiled sweetly, pretending to be busy, but when the woman looked away she slipped down from her perch bearing two pasted labels. Very delicately she attached one to each woman’s padded bottom, wishing it said something funnier than ‘Penny’s Homeopathic Cocoa Promotes Glowing Health’.
She pulled her hand away swiftly as Susan turned, smiling. ‘Had enough?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ said Belle politely. ‘I’m going to find my grandfather now.’
‘What’s up with her then?’ Susan grinned at Rosanna who had started to giggle. ‘Does she come from Giggleswick?’
The girls clasped hands and scurried away. The labels were small revenge for the nasty things the women had said about Belle, but it was a token, and for Rosie the incident had served to make her more aware of her cousin’s differences. Taking a flight of linoleum-covered stairs they found Patrick and Nick in the new extension. George was outlining Thomasin’s project – this was to be the new hardware and haberdashery department.
Erin’s Child Page 20