Erin’s Child

by Erin's Child (retail) (epub)

  She sighed. ‘I’m not ill, if that’s what they told you.’

  ‘Sure, I’ve been told nothing.’ He moved to stand beside her at the window. ‘Come on now, ye’ve never had secrets from your old grandfather.’ Still she was unresponsive. He laid a gnarled hand on her shoulder and gripped it encouragingly.

  The face that turned to his was devoid of moisture – Belle was not given to tears – but the expression it bore advertised the torment she was going through. ‘It’s not a secret you’ll want to share, Gramps.’

  ‘Tell me anyway.’

  ‘I’m responsible for someone’s death,’ she blurted. ‘A little child of four years.’ She searched for the shock on his face but there was only puzzlement. ‘Those children I brought home the day before yesterday; she was one of those. I sat there and watched her stuff herself with cakes and pastry and jelly and cream, laughed at the way her cheeks pouched as she and the others gorged themselves.’ She looked at the floor. ‘Then, when I went yesterday to apologise to the mother I found the child desperately ill. She died this morning.’

  ‘But that doesn’t mean to say you’re responsible!’ Patrick tried to reason with her.

  ‘Yes, it does! Don’t you see, Grandfather? It was due to all that unaccustomed richness that her insides couldn’t cope. I’m responsible. I caused her death as surely as if I’d fed her poison.’

  ‘Ye can’t possibly know…’

  ‘Would you accept a doctor’s word?’ she asked dully.

  ‘He said you were to blame?’ Patrick was aghast.

  ‘In no uncertain terms. He made it very plain what he thought of people such as me, the “interferers” who go where we aren’t wanted and cause nothing but distress.’

  ‘Then he’s talking out of his rear end,’ expostulated her grandfather. ‘My God, it’d be a poor show if everyone thought like that: mind your own business, it doesn’t concern ye. Where would we be without the Shaftesburys, the Tukes and the Nightingales? They were all dubbed as interferers when they began.’

  ‘I can hardly be compared to any of those.’

  ‘Why not? Ye care, don’t ye? They all had to start somewhere. One day folk will recognise the good you’re attempting to do.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Sure, you’re not giving up? Where’s all the fighting talk from the other night? There’s people out there waiting for your help. Don’t let this one unfortunate incident spoil your whole ambition.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ sighed Belle. ‘Perhaps the doctor was right. Maybe I am spurred by selfish motives.’

  ‘Gob, he must be a terrible clever bloke this doctor fella,’ exclaimed Patrick. ‘He’s succeeded where your own mother failed, an’ God knows she put up a devilish fight. Come on, Belle, don’t tell me the man’s got the better of ye.’

  She was thoughtful for a span. ‘I’m going to have to think very carefully about it all, Gramps.’

  ‘Well, at least y’are thinking. That’s a good sign. Won’t ye come downstairs with your old grandpater an’ have a spot o’ crack till supper? Give your cousin a chance to get into her room.’ He waited until she gave a tight smile, linked arms with him and the pair of them went down.

  They had not been long in the drawing room, Patrick sipping whiskey, Belle a glass of orange juice, when the maid informed them that there was a visitor. ‘A Doctor Dyson, sir.’

  ‘Oh, dash,’ said Belle. ‘How do I get through the hall without bumping into him?’

  ‘Let the fella drive ye from your own drawing room? I think not. Anyway, I want to see this hard man. Send him in, Helen.’

  The doctor was shown in, hanging back when he saw Patrick. He had hoped to be allowed to see Miss Teale alone. ‘Come in, Doctor,’ invited Patrick unsmilingly as the maid took the visitor’s coat away. ‘I can see ye expected to find your target unguarded but there’s a few words I’d like to put to ye.’

  Brian came forward awkwardly. ‘I think I may be able to guess what those words might be, sir, and let me say you would be well within your rights to voice them. However,’ he glanced at Belle who had not acknowledged him, ‘I hope that I may be permitted to offer vindication before you do so.’

  ‘I’m a fair man, Doctor Dyson. Go ahead.’ Patrick did not, as he would to any other guest, offer the man a drink.

  Brian turned a penitent face to the young woman. ‘Miss Teale, this morning I made certain accusations against yourself. It’s no excuse to say that I had been without sleep for twenty-four hours and was lacking my normal sensibilities, it was unforgiveable and quite without justification. I can well imagine what torment my impulsive tirade must have put you through. I can only throw myself on your good nature and trust that you will employ the same charity as you showed Mrs Shaw and forgive me.’

  ‘Then, my grand-daughter didn’t cause the child’s death?’ asked Patrick, who felt in a way that he shared Belle’s responsibility.

  Brian shook his head. ‘I’m afraid I allowed frustration to take control of my tongue. The child was ill with appendicitis, from which she might very well have suffered had she taken her usual meal of bread and butter.’

  ‘You mean you allowed me to stew all day until you plucked up the decency to tell me the truth?’ ejaculated Belle, looking at him for the first time.

  ‘I share your disgust, Miss Teale.’ Brian picked at his cuffs. ‘It was wrong of me to blame you for my own inadequacies. Oh, I’d such big ideas! I was going to be a doctor and make the lame to walk, the blind to see… Such pomposity. It was anger at myself that gave rise to this morning’s outburst. Unfortunately you happened to be in the way. I cannot apologise profusely enough.’

  ‘Nothing you can say will make amends,’ spat Belle.

  Patrick intervened. ‘Belle, the man’s had the decency to humble himself, don’t make him eat dirt. Here, doctor, come sit down. Will ye take a drink with me?’

  Brian thanked him, then looked to Belle who remained sullen. ‘I can see I’ve caused you great distress.’

  ‘Yes, you have!’ The blackness of her expression was half-concealed by the hand which propped up her chin.

  ‘Now, Belle.’ Patrick handed a drink to the doctor. When she looked at her grandfather he made a prompting motion with his mouth.

  She sighed. ‘Very well, I accept your explanation, Doctor, and your apology. I am greatly relieved to learn that I was not a contributor to the child’s death. Now, if you will both excuse me…’ She limped to the door.

  Brian and Patrick rose, the former scurrying to open it for her. When he returned to his seat his shoulders sagged. ‘I fear I’ve made a permanent enemy of your granddaughter, sir. That’s the last thing I would have wished for.’

  Patrick searched for his pipe and lit it. ‘I wouldn’t let one skirmish deter ye.’

  ‘It isn’t exactly the first.’ Brian took off his spectacles to wipe them with a handkerchief and told Patrick of their meeting on the train. ‘I must confess to finding your granddaughter very attractive. Unfortunately the admiration was one-sided. The young lady’s mother, too, discouraged me from further approach.’

  ‘Don’t take that too personally, Doctor Dyson.’ Patrick puffed contentedly. ‘My daughter would’ve viewed any man in a similar light. She had high hopes for Belle before all this came about an’ wouldn’t have wanted her wasted on marriage.’

  Brian asked what ‘all this’ meant.

  ‘The orphanage lark. The night before last Belle ups an’ tells her mother that instead o’ going back to university she’s off to set up a home for waifs an’ strays. There was merry hell. The girl’s mother sent her to Coventry till she comes to her senses. They’re both as stubborn as a waggonload o’ donkeys.’

  ‘So that was her purpose in visiting Hungate?’

  ‘Aye, she was likely searching for recruits – till the wee girl died, that is. It kind o’ put the kibosh on things.’ Brian cursed himself openly for a fool. ‘If only I’d been aware. I thought she was just amusing he
rself.’ He hooked his spectacles back round his ears.

  ‘That’s understandable.’

  ‘No, it’s not, it’s foolish and short-sighted, as if I was the only one with the right to care.’

  ‘Well, console yourself with this little theory o’ mine: I think maybe there was an element of amusement in it for her at first – till she got chucked in the drink o’ course.’ Concisely he told Brian the facts. ‘After that I think a little bit o’ revenge crept into it. She wanted to get her own back by using the children. I may be quite wrong o’ course, but anyway ’tis all different now. She seems quite serious about helping them. She was heartbroken about the little girl, ye know.’

  ‘I can imagine, knowing what I felt like myself. Oh, you don’t know how useless it made me feel.’

  ‘There was no hope o’ saving her?’

  ‘I’ve sometimes seen them recover, but this was too far advanced. The only comfort I could perform was to sit and mop her brow until the poison in her gut put an end to it.’ He brought his hands up to his face, rubbed it briskly, then combed his fingers through his hair.

  ‘Ye look tired, son.’ Patrick reached for the doctor’s glass to refill it. ‘Haven’t ye caught up on the sleep ye lost last night?’

  Brian gave a short humourless laugh. ‘I’m afraid it was straight from the deathbed back to the surgery. There was a queue a mile long. If I’m lucky I’ll have an early night and pray that no one decides to come into the world or go out of it until eight o’clock tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Have ye nobody who could deputise?’

  ‘I am the deputy.’ Brian took the refilled glass gratefully. ‘I’m a junior partner in the practice. I do what I’m told – usually.’ He smiled, remembering the set-to he’d had with Dr Barley over payments from the poor.

  ‘Well, ’tis sorry I am I can’t take the weight off your shoulders,’ said Pat. ‘But at least I can offer ye dinner. Will ye stay?’

  ‘Actually, my housekeeper will have something prepared…’ Brian’s voice trailed away as he pictured the plate of faggots and peas that awaited his return, then imagined what the meal would be like in this house. ‘But perhaps she’ll understand if I tell her I couldn’t possibly refuse the offer.’ He grinned and settled back to chat with his host until the rest of the family arrived home for their evening meal.

  Belle was none too pleased to find Dr Dyson still there at dinner and, even more annoyingly, seated next to her at the table. She spread her napkin with barely a glance in his direction, though she knew he was looking at her all the time. After several attempts at conversation had failed, however, he turned his attention to Erin, seated at his right. ‘This is an excellent meal, is it not, Mrs Teale?’

  Erin replied that it was and carried on eating. Though the people on the opposite side of the table smiled and chatted Brian found it most disconcerting to be situated between two people who were not on speaking terms. Well, actually it appeared it was only Mrs Teale who wasn’t on speaking terms. Brian considered this highly childish from a middle-aged woman, even accounting for the vast disappointment she must have experienced at her daughter throwing up an academic career. But for God’s sake, the girl was doing something useful for society, wasn’t she? Rashly he brought up the taboo subject.

  ‘If I might say so, Mrs Teale, I think your daughter has undertaken a most commendable task.’ No one actually dropped their cutlery but he was aware of the tension which followed his remark.

  Erin laid down her knife. ‘Would someone pass me the water jug, please?’

  Brian was quick to provide it, supplementing his former comment with: ‘There must be many children in the city who’d benefit from her scheme.’

  Erin positioned her knife and fork on the plate with finality. ‘If ye’ll all excuse me I have a headache. I’ll go lie down for a while.’ She rose and left the room.

  Brian looked embarrassedly at the gathering. ‘I’m sorry. Often matters are better if they’re aired. It seems not to be so in this case.’

  Belle rose as abruptly as her mother had done. ‘Doctor Dyson, you seem to have a talent for upsetting people.’

  ‘It takes a lot of practice.’ Brian didn’t know what had made him say that. He stood up, too. ‘I’m sorry but I was trying to make reparation for my aggression this morning. If your mother had stayed I would have tried to persuade her to see the wrong she’s doing you.’

  ‘Did I ask you to take sides?’ she demanded. Brian said she hadn’t. ‘Then kindly don’t presume to intrude on what is essentially a family matter. I don’t need assistance from you, or from anyone. Please mind your own business.’ She stormed out.

  Brian looked lamely at his host. ‘There are going to be a lot of leftovers.’

  ‘We’ll get a dog,’ replied Patrick. ‘Don’t you worry about them two silly devils, son. I have it to put up with all the time.’

  What a funny way you have of showing a girl you care for her, Brian told himself, sitting down. Couldn’t you just see the love in her eyes?

  * * *

  However, before dinner broke up, her sense of fairness overcoming her anger, Belle was back to apologise. Whilst the others retired to the drawing room for coffee she bade the doctor stay a moment. ‘I can’t allow you to leave thinking we’re all termagants in this house,’ she half-smiled.

  ‘Not to worry, I had a few kind words from your grandmother.’

  ‘Don’t be fooled; she’s the worst of the lot. Anyway, what I want to say is there’s been enough childish behaviour from my mother without me acting the same, so…’

  ‘No, you had every right to be angry,’ Brian assured her. ‘It was grossly impertinent of me to abuse your grandfather’s hospitality’ by poking my nose in. That is, I regret to say, one of my greatest faults. But you see, the explanation I gave you was true; I was trying to make amends for this morning. I should hate for you to throw away your fine intentions on account of my hasty words.’

  ‘Now that you’ve told me I wasn’t responsible for the child’s death there’s no danger of that. As to my mother, well, it was very kind of you to try, Doctor Dyson, but I really don’t require your help in that or any other quarter. So, after telling me you accept my apology would you care to join the others for coffee?’

  He failed to stifle a yawn. ‘Oh dear, I do beg your pardon. I really would love to extend my stay but if I don’t catch up on my sleep I shall be a proper quack in the morning.’

  Belle rang for the maid while Brian looked in on the others to proffer his thanks and to say goodnight. Then, the girl delighted him by accompanying him to the end of the drive.

  ‘Tell me, how do you propose to start your venture, Miss Teale?’ he asked as she crunched lopsidedly along the gravel path.

  ‘I’ve already started. You met Lol at dinner; he’s my first child.’ Brian tried not to smile, but it did sound funny the way she said it, her age being not that much more than the boy’s. He asked where she had found Lol and Belle told him a similar story to that given by her grandfather earlier. She came to a halt when they reached the gate and confessed to not knowing where she would find her next recruit.

  ‘Perhaps I could be of help there,’ said Brian, then smiled. ‘I know you said you didn’t need assistance but it would make a change after all the aggravation I’ve caused you.’ She was interested to know more. ‘Well, I do practise in the poorer areas – although ironically you might find more candidates for adoption in the better-class households.’ She made a dubious moue. ‘I’m completely serious. Many people imagine that because a child is ragged and unwashed it means he is neglected. I’ve been in dozens of houses such as the Shaws’ and found very few cases of wanton deprivation. You would be as likely to find it in what might be termed a privileged household – such as your own. It appears from the large number of offspring these people bring into the world that they are genuinely fond of children – as well they might be, some of them – but in many cases they are merely chattels.’

  Sh
e was half-impressed, half-annoyed that he had said ‘households such as your own’. ‘I can assure you that neither I nor my cousins were ever starved of affection, Doctor.’

  He hurried to correct the misunderstanding. ‘I most certainly didn’t mean to imply such a thing. I doubt that your grandparents are the sort of folk who’d allow their home to be used as an orphanage if they didn’t like children.’

  She smiled that infrequent smile; it completely altered her face; made her really beautiful. ‘Without their help I should have found it very hard. But make no mistake – I wouldn’t have let it stop me.’

  He was quite sure she wouldn’t. Her independence verged on the obsessive. Some people in her position might have become meek invalids, but her disability had turned Belle into a firebrand. No one would dare to view such a strong-minded, accomplished person as a cripple. Another yawn distorted his face. He was forced to excuse himself again. ‘I really must be going. I do hope that my blunder hasn’t destroyed the chance of us being friends. I wonder, could I see you again?’

  ‘Oh, we’ll probably meet on our own separate courses,’ she answered casually.

  ‘I’d prefer something more definite than just a chance meeting.’ There it is again, he thought glumly, that defensive wall. I can’t seem to get near her.

  ‘I don’t think…’

  ‘As I’ve already said I can be of help to you – in fact I may have an idea already.’ He saw her face perk up and went on, ‘I have a patient who’s dying. I seem to have nothing else lately, do I? Anyway, the woman has pulmonary bleeding. If she lasts another day it will be a miracle. I can do nothing for her medical condition but I could give her peace of mind – at least, you can. She has four children whose ages range from a mere babe to a six-year-old. She’s desperately worried that she has no relatives with whom she can place them when she dies, and being a former inmate of the workhouse herself is greatly troubled at the thought of her children being taken there. If I could assure her that they’d be taken care of… adopted into a loving home, her final hours would be contented ones.’