Erin’s Child

by Erin's Child (retail) (epub)

  ‘Then assure her and let her mind be at peace,’ instructed Belle adamantly. ‘I’ll take them.’

  ‘You may wish to discuss it first with your grandparents.’

  ‘They’re already conversant with my plans.’

  ‘I reiterate that there is a young baby among them. Whoever takes charge of it would be in for many disturbed evenings, not to mention having to cope with the distress of the older ones.’

  ‘I’m sure I shall manage,’ said Belle. ‘A few sleepless nights never hurt anyone. Oh well…’ she was forced to laugh at Brian’s disgruntled look. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sure you must be aching for your bed. I’ll keep you gossiping no longer. Just send word when the… when you need my help and I shall make it my business to be there.’

  ‘I shall tell my patient tomorrow. It’ll be one less worry for her to bear. Well, it’s goodnight then, Miss Teale, and please thank your grandparents for the excellent supper. I shall hope to see you again soon.’

  After ten paces he turned to look back to see if she was watching his departure, but Belle was on her way back to the house. Still, he had made a start.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  It was another week before the woman succumbed to her illness and her spirit, at peace now, departed this world for the next. Brian arrived at the Feeney household one overcast morning accompanied by a nurse who carried the baby whilst Brian himself held the second youngest. Belle was in her room, making half-hearted sketches. She was on a tight schedule. The illustrations which she had been commissioned to do for a ladies’ journal were barely started and were meant to be sent off tomorrow. She had come by this means of earning a little money whilst still at university. Overhearing a discussion between two fellow students about one of them having an article published in a magazine, she listened more intendy and picking up the basic details of how to go about it had submitted a short story of her own. It had been accepted – not, primarily, for its literary content but because Belle had decorated the tide sheet of her manuscript with exquisitely detailed portraits of her characters which had drawn the Editor’s eye. Henceforth, he had commissioned her illustrations on a regular basis and also printed her stories. Occasionally she would write more serious articles on topical events and had had many published in newspapers, but for those she required concentration and that had been somewhat elusive since Dr Dyson had told her about the children. She could hardly summon enough to finish these simple paintings.

  Today, though, she had determined to finish them in one fell swoop and swore that she would not come out of that room until they were done. Her paintbrush was in the act of sweeping round the outline of a lady’s skirt when there was a tap on the door and the maid informed her that the hall was full of children. Spattering the half-finished picture with dots of paint as she flung the brush aside, Belle rushed down to welcome them.

  ‘Good day, Miss Teale.’ Brian’s face was etched in dark lines. Death still affected him. He wondered if he would ever cease to become emotionally concerned with his patients. ‘These are the children. They’ve been informed that they are to come and live with you. You’ll understand of course if they’re a bit weepy for a time.’

  ‘It’s natural when one has lost a parent, Doctor.’ Belle limped forward to take the baby from the nurse, receiving also the information that it required changing. ‘I’ll see to it immediately.’ The day after Brian had told her of the family she had gone out to buy baby clothes and other necessary items and had received very odd looks when it came to the purchase of a feeding bottle. She and Vinnie had enjoyed a good laugh about it on their way home. Passing the baby to the maid, who held it as awkwardly as she had done, she divested the doctor of his burden, asking if he and the nurse would care for some refreshment. ‘I’m afraid I shan’t be able to join you if I’m to see to the children, but I’m sure someone will make you at home.’

  Brian was disappointed. He had hoped for a bit of time with Belle. ‘No, we’d better go back to the surgery.’ He looked at the nurse. ‘There might be someone requiring treatment.’

  Belle thanked him for bringing the children. ‘Maybe you’d like to call for dinner on Friday to see how they’re being looked after?’

  The lines of fatigue dispersed with his smile. ‘Why thank you, Miss Teale, that would be delightful – till Friday then.’ He donned his hat and ushered the nurse through the front doorway.

  Belle looked round at her new charges and said cheerfully, ‘Now first of all we must know your names for we can’t call you “You there” or “Boy”, can we?’ The eldest provided their tags: Edward, Anna, Cicely and baby Lucy. ‘What lovely names. I shall be known as Aunt Belle.’ She made her voice more in keeping with the situation. ‘I know it won’t be like living with your real mother and the shock of her death must seem unbearable, but I hope you’ll soon come to think of this as your home. I’ll do my best to make you happy.’

  The little boy started to cry, infecting his siblings right down to the baby. Happy! thought Vinnie dismally as she followed the procession upstairs bearing the squawling baby. Since Helen’s departure she had borne the title maid-of-all-work… and had the terrible suspicion that she was about to add nursemaid to her capabilities.

  * * *

  Belle was pleased to report to Brian when he came to dinner that, after the initial strangeness, the children had settled down with little disruption to the household. The baby, though unburdened by the emotional difficulties of the others, was the most exacting in the physical sense, needing changing and feeding every couple of hours. In this she had the maid’s help, though when Vinnie’s complaints of overwork – ‘I don’t know why she should expect me to know all about babies just ’cause I’m a maid! S’all right for her, she doesn’t get the mucky jobs to do!’ – filtered up from the kitchen, Thomasin was forced to employ a proper nursemaid who took complete charge while Belle directed her energies at the others, Lol acting as helper. The latter had not viewed the idea of sharing Belle with four more children in a very healthy light and had felt no pity for their loss, but now he had come to accept their presence and was quite pleased to have underlings to boss about. The rest of the household, with the exception of Erin who showed no interest whatsoever, doted on the young boarders and they were always passed around for goodnight kisses before bedtime, sometimes even receiving one of Patrick’s splendid tales. They were not, however, allowed to eat at the family table. Belle was told by her grandmother that this would only make things worse between her and Erin.

  During the following months the number of Belle’s foundlings grew to seven, comprising Lol – of whom Belle saw little now as he was in full employment at Thomasin’s factory – the four children of the dead woman, another baby whose unmarried mother had died giving birth and a boy of eight, Cedric, who had been a street urchin like Lol until swept into Dr Dyson’s cart and spirited here. The authorities were agreeable to the arrangements as it lessened the burden on them; Patrick had deemed it best to advise them at the outset – though they were unaware of Belle’s age and would probably not have sanctioned the orphanage if they had been. It was Patrick’s name which was put forward as the founder.

  The house began to groan in protest at the little feet which pounded up and down its halls, played vociferous games of hide and seek in its cupboards, slid down its polished balustrades and shrieked aloud their happiness in its rambling gardens. As yet there had been no complaints from her grandparents, but Belle recognised that young as she was it would soon be time to find a place of her own. The maids couldn’t be relied upon to keep patience with the sticky fingermarks that appeared on the mahogany furniture five seconds after they had polished it – and Nick’s bedroom turned upside down in the search for the darts he had confiscated when one of them had almost skewered him to the door. And even though Belle wasn’t exactly the best of friends with Rosanna she knew she could not expect the girl to keep putting up with her stockings being used for swingball – Rosie was ratty enough these days, thou
ght Belle, wondering over the reason. It couldn’t be lack of male attention, for there was always some young man or other being invited for her. Thank God that she herself was spared that. It would be Rosie’s twenty-first birthday very soon. Belle doubted there would be any announcements of betrothal – Rosie never seemed to stick with one of them for more than a month. Flighty creature.

  * * *

  The flighty creature stared blankly into the mirror of her dressing table, then leaned on her elbows and spoke to her reflection. ‘Just be nice to him for a little while longer. It’s not that hard is it? He is very pleasant.’ No, he isn’t, sulked her reflection. He grates on my nerves – they all do, thinking I’m really interested in them. Just a week, she begged herself. Just hold on for another week. You’ve managed perfectly for all this time, none of them but Nick has the slightest idea… just think of what a week will bring. You’ll be twenty-one and nobody will be able to tell you what to do. Her thoughts strayed to Tim. He hated it, she knew; hated to think of his beloved in the company of all those young men. But he put up with it as she did, for in another week or so none of this would matter.

  What a slow week it was. Most of Sunday was spent in her parents’ house as had become a regular occurrence over the past couple of years – most of it, but not all. While poor unsuspecting Father and Mother relaxed downstairs after Sunday lunch, Rosie would sneak from the house and pass a torrid couple of hours with Timothy in some field, or barn if it were cold. It was a far from satisfactory courtship, but it was better than not seeing him at all. Then, after a clinging kiss she would scamper back to her room, from where she would emerge looking tousled and Josie would laugh and say, ‘I’ve never known Sunday lunch have the same effect on anybody as it has on you!’

  * * *

  When the day of her twenty-first birthday finally dawned, Rosie woke up and thought, today is the beginning of my real life. As most of their friends and family lived around York the party was held in the house on Peasholme Green. Sonny, Josie and the girls travelled over for the occasion. There was much amusement over Rosie’s shouts of glee at her splendid gifts and also much speculation on whether she would eventually marry the young man with whom she danced most that evening. And for Rosie the best part of all was when it was over.

  On the Saturday morning following her coming of age, Rosanna appeared at the breakfast table in a deep crimson dress and jacket, presented to her by her mother on her last visit to Leeds. This was its first airing and everyone commented on how magnificent she looked. Nick whistled. ‘Blimey, what a stunner!’

  ‘A real grown-up lady,’ said Patrick, stirring his tea. ‘And where are ye gadding off to this morning? Going shopping?’

  She stopped eating to present a deadpan expression. ‘Didn’t Father tell you? I’m going over today instead of tomorrow.’

  Her grandmother looked as surprised as Patrick. ‘When was this arranged?’

  ‘At my party,’ answered Rosanna, resuming her meal and wishing that Nick would take that look from his eye. ‘He was grumbling about having to go somewhere on Sunday and not being able to see me so I said I’d go today.’ She had blessed Father for this perfect opportunity.

  ‘Oh aye, I do remember him saying something about it,’ nodded Patrick. ‘Well, I hope the weather stays fine for your trip – taking Vinnie, are you?’

  ‘Gramps, I am twenty-one now, you know.’ She smiled at her grandmother. ‘I hardly need a chaperone.’

  Thomasin unwittingly came to her support. ‘We’ll need Vinnie here – I’ve got dinner guests tonight.’

  ‘Well, be careful,’ warned Patrick. ‘What train are ye catching?’

  Rosanna glanced at the clock as she scraped the last of the food from her bowl. ‘I thought I’d get there nice and early. I feel a bit guilty about Mother and Father, hardly spending any time with them at my party.’

  ‘Yes, I noticed you and Jeremy were enjoying yourselves,’ smiled Thomasin slyly. ‘Is he going to be the lucky man, I wonder?’

  Rosanna winked at her grandfather. ‘You’ll have to wait and see, won’t she, Gramps?’ To sounds of despair from her grandmother she began to rise. ‘I’d better stir myself if I want to catch that train.’

  Patrick told her to be careful of talking to strangers. ‘And I’ll telephone your father and ask him to meet you at that end.’

  ‘Gramps, will you behave yourself! Father knows what time I’ll be there, you don’t imagine he’d allow me to stand about on the station, do you? He’s as bad as you are. Stop fussing.’ She came around the table to kiss him and Thomasin. Her grandparents shared a chuckle at the tight squeeze she gave them both, unaware that it was as much a gesture of guilt as affection. Passing Nick she dipped her head and kissed him too. ‘Wish you were coming.’

  ‘No, you don’t.’ But his eyes smiled fondly. ‘Have a good time.’

  ‘I will – and I’ll ring you as soon as I get there, Gramps, just to put your mind at rest. Bye!’ She sailed from the room.

  Thomasin sighed. ‘Still as harum-scarum as ever. God help the poor man who has to keep her in tow – eh, but didn’t she look lovely, Pat?’ Not just lovely – blooming. The thought seemed to trigger another, making her frown. She cast her mind back to reflect if the young couple had been left on their own during the time Jeremy had been paying court. They had, once or twice… but no, it couldn’t be that. Jeremy was a respectable young chap. Still… it wouldn’t harm to start discussing wedding plans.

  Patrick was voicing his frustration. ‘I worry my head loose about that child. I’ll bet she goes and forgets to telephone me an’ all.’

  But Rosanna didn’t forget. Later in the morning Patrick received the call to tell him she had arrived in Leeds and for him not to worry any more. At his objection she added, ‘Oh get away with you! I know you’ve been sitting by that telephone all morning, chewing the end of your tie. I’m all in one piece, I promise, and I’ll see you tomorrow evening.’

  ‘Right – and love to everyone there!’ he shouted before she hung up.

  ‘He sends you his love,’ Rosanna told Tim, before thanking the man in the office for the use of his telephone.

  Tim grimaced. ‘Why didn’t you just tell him the same as ye told your parents? If he should telephone them…’

  Rosie didn’t seem concerned. ‘Why should he do that? He thinks I’m already there. Besides, if I’d told him I’d missed the train he would be straight down to the station looking for me and then where would we be? It’s much better if Father and Mother break the news to him. Once we’ve told them of course.’ She wrapped impulsive arms round his neck and kissed him. ‘Oh, I’m so happy! I only hope Mother and Father see that. I’m dreading having to tell them.’ Pulling away, she noticed that Tim seemed uneasy and asked what was the matter.

  He escorted her outside and hurried her to the cab that had been waiting for them in Blake Street, directing it to the railway station. ‘I’ve something I have to tell you, Rosanna… a confession.’ She stopped at the carriage door but he motioned for her to get in before divulging, ‘Mr Dorgan says it might be wiser if we didn’t break the news yet.’

  ‘Oh Timothy!’ She raged and flung herself away from him. ‘I’ve waited four years for this!’

  ‘And so have I, pet.’ He put a gentle hand to her mouth, using the other to smooth the ridges of bad-temper from her brow. ‘But as he says, there’s not just us to consider. If there’s trouble over this – and there will be – it could cause disaster for the Brotherhood.’

  ‘I’m getting sick of the blasted Brotherhood!’ spat Rosie, jogging up and down with the motion of the carriage.

  ‘Now…’ He wagged a finger.

  ‘Oh, you know I didn’t mean it – but I just feel so let down! I mean, what have we wasted time in there for?’ She jabbed a finger at the building they had just left.

  ‘Regretting it already, are ye?’ came the soft query.

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ she sulked. ‘I just expected that after today
we’d be together – why didn’t you tell me earlier?’

  ‘I thought as I’d wangled the day off we might as well go through with it.’

  ‘Huh! What a way to regard our special day.’

  He tried to embrace her. ‘I only meant that I can’t afford to be having too many days off, specially not at this time of year, or I’m likely to get finished altogether. Anyway… if I’d told ye before ye might not have wanted to go ahead with our plan.’

  She laughed bitterly. ‘What plan? It’s ruined!’

  His face denied this. ‘No, this is still our special day. Just because no one else knows of it doesn’t make it any less special. We’ve got most of what we wanted. I love ye, Rosie.’

  She sighed and told him she loved him too. ‘I was looking forward to showing you to my parents, you look so smart.’ She stroked the jacket he had bought for the occasion. ‘So, how much longer do we have to keep this secret?’

  ‘Not long.’ He soothed her with a kiss. ‘I’m as eager as you to be away. I’m only sorry that it can’t be this afternoon.’

  ‘Why can’t it?’ she asked bluntly, sitting up.

  ‘I told ye, because of the Brotherhood.’

  ‘Yes, but whenever we tell them – next week, next year – there’s still going to be trouble for the Brotherhood.’

  ‘Rosie, trust me, it’ll be as soon as I can possibly make it.’ To evade further questions he covered her mouth with his.

  The kiss redirected her mind to the more pressing issue. ‘So… what are we going to do now?’ she asked as the cab rumbled over Lendal Bridge.

  ‘You’ll go to your parents as planned.’

  ‘Oh marvellous! And what will you be doing?’