Never Look Back

by Lesley Pearse

  They were holding this meeting in Zandra’s parlour, but she now half-jokingly called it the boardroom, for while Matilda had been away, Zandra had finally decided to retire from her old business. Her boarders had all gone, mostly to a new parlour house further along the street. Their dormitory-style rooms were empty, Matilda was sleeping in one of the three boudoirs where they once took their gentlemen, and Dolores the maid had another one. After a few weeks of rest Zandra’s legs were much better, she was bright-eyed and enthusiastic about the new project and said it had given her a new lease of life.

  ‘Shall we get on with the business in hand?’ Charles asked, looking to each of them in turn. ‘I’m sure you will all be pleased to know that Mrs Jennings has approved the plans of the building and each of you as her co-shareholders, and is anxious that we start work without delay. Mrs Jennings would like to address you all at this point.’

  They all looked to her.

  ‘First of all I’d like to welcome you all aboard London Lil’s,’ she said, her voice cracking with nerves, even though she’d rehearsed this little speech many times. ‘I hope we will not only be co-shareholders, but friends, and along with making a great deal of money, we’ll enjoy ourselves too.

  ‘As I believe Charles has already informed you, I have insisted on having a clause written into our agreements that should anyone wish to sell their share in the business at any time, a meeting like this one will be called, and that share offered first to me. This is, as I’m sure you’ll understand, to ensure I do not lose control of the business. But likewise, should I wish to retire at some future date, my share will be offered to all of you before any outsider is approached. While Charles will be handling the legal side of the business for us, I intend to appoint an independent accountant to look after the books. These of course will be open to all of you for inspection.’

  She then went on to outline in more detail her plans for the interior decor and equipment needed and suggested they invite tenders for the supply of glassware, beer and spirits from companies Zandra had previous experience with. She had already explained her idea of the central stage, the long bar and a small dance area to Henry, and he had completed detailed sketches which he passed around for their approval. Matilda pointed out that she would require a wage from the business as once it opened she would be working there constantly, and had to provide for her children, but she also pointed out that each of them would be paid for any services they rendered on submission of a bill.

  For over two hours they discussed varying aspects of the business, from the interior decoration to specialist tradesmen who would need to be called in, and agreed they would have a further meeting each Friday evening to discuss the work in progress.

  ‘I think that covers just about everything,’ Matilda said finally, smiling round at them. ‘Except that I’d like you all to drop the Mrs Jennings title, at least in private. I’m Matty to all of you.’

  Zandra rang the bell and Dolores came in with a bottle of champagne and glasses for a toast.

  ‘To London Lil’s,’ Charles said, raising his glass. ‘May she become a beacon of light, fun and happiness in this town.’

  ‘To London Lil’s,’ they all repeated, and clinked their glasses.

  Everything in San Francisco moved fast, but it was nothing short of miraculous how quickly the building went up. One day there was nothing but a piece of scrubby land, the next the trenches for the foundations were dug. There was a slight delay waiting for the iron frame to arrive by sea, and watching men haul the large heavy pieces up the hill on carts was nerve-racking, as to Matilda at least it seemed impossible to imagine anyone being able to figure out how it all slotted together.

  But Simeon and Henry knew exactly what they were doing, and in no time at all their labourers had assembled it and riveted it together. It stood up above the town like a huge, ugly brown cage, creating a great deal of both laughter and suspicion. But then the bricklayers began work, and each day it began to look just a little more like Henry’s drawings. Fortunately the weather all through February and March remained mild, with very little rain, and the miners who’d come down from the mountains for a break from the freezing conditions up there were glad of a few weeks’ work. By mid-March Matilda was able to climb up a ladder to view the shell of her private apartment, and the view of the bay from what would be her parlour window. Although there was no roof at that stage, only timber, it was exciting enough to help ease the pain she felt at being away from her children.

  Tabitha wrote every week, and mostly there was a page from Cissie too, proving she was taking her lessons seriously. Amelia had begun to walk, as long as she had something to hold on to, she had several more teeth, and liked to feed herself now, making a fearful mess. Sidney wasn’t very happy at the sawmill. Cissie called the owner an ‘arse-wipe’ because instead of teaching the lad new skills, he treated him like a labourer, fetching and carrying, but never trusting him to plane or saw timber. She said she was now going to church, because it was a good excuse to buy a pretty hat.

  Reading between the lines, it was clear Cissie was very much happier. Moving to town had relieved her of so much hard work and anxiety, and there were less painful reminders of John. She had time to make friends with other women, she was financially secure, and she felt safer knowing she had neighbours close by. Although she said in every letter that she missed Matilda terribly, there was no hint of real loneliness.

  Tabitha’s letters were full of all the little details of their life together that Cissie’s never touched on. Treacle had fathered a litter of puppies with a bitch further along their street. She said they were so sweet she wanted to have all of them, but the owners of the bitch were cross with Cissie for letting Treacle wander around the town, so Sidney had built him a kennel in the garden and repaired the fence. Peter was getting on very well at school, he was the best reader of his age and he had a friend called Tom. She described how Susanna would look at a book and pretend to read it, but it was often upside down. She kept insisting she was a big girl now and that she thought she ought to go to school too. But of all the things which pleased Matilda in Tabitha’s letters, her obvious contentment in her new life was the best. She spoke about the shops, watching the blacksmith, walking along the river bank, her teacher at school and new things she’d learnt, and it was clear she felt happy and confident.

  The days just weren’t long enough for Matilda. From early morning till late at night she was busy choosing furnishings, seeing commercial travellers’ samples of everything from glasses and oil lamps to chairs, sitting in at auditions with entertainers, looking out for the right staff to help her run the place. There were terrible panics when things ordered didn’t turn up, anger when inferior items were substituted, and frustration when Henry or Simeon said part of the building work wasn’t right.

  Henry and Simeon hardly left the site. They always seemed to be arguing over some small detail, the carving on the banisters going up to the gallery, the design on the glazed doors, the exact length of the bar, and the height of the mirrors behind it.

  The whole stage was built, then had to come down again because it wasn’t supported strongly enough. The men who came to dig the well had three false tries before they finally found water. And when the glazier arrived to fit the windows, a young apprentice fell out of the first-floor window and broke his arm. Every day seemed to be fraught with anxiety, and although Zandra reminded Matilda again and again that she had four other partners, and they shared the problems and could solve them together, Matilda still felt responsible for everything that went wrong.

  Yet however full her life was, however exciting the future looked, missing her children was something which never went away, and she often felt stabs of terrible guilt because she knew she hadn’t come here entirely for their benefit. This knowledge left her with an inner feeling of worthlessness as a mother, and as a result she plunged herself into working even harder, to justify herself.

  It was Zandra who pointed th
is out to her one evening in early April when their grand opening was only a week away.

  The exterior of London Lil’s was complete, except for the sign which would be placed over the doors just a day before the opening. It sat proudly up on the hill, reminiscent of the grand plantation houses in the Southern states. Painted white, with green tiles on the roof, and the veranda balustrade and window-frames a glossy red, it could be seen clearly for miles.

  Inside, the central stage was yet to have its final coats of varnish, but the walls had already had a coat of paint, and the artist who had been commissioned to reproduce street scenes of London, copied from a book of sketches Zandra had lent, was hard at work.

  A long bar with mirrors behind ran along the entire right-hand side of the main room, this too was waiting for varnish. The left-hand side was to be the dance floor. A wide staircase led up from the back on to a narrow gallery which would give a better view of the shows on the stage for those booking a table in advance, and also give Matilda a place from which to view the entire lower floor. Two small rooms were up here too, intended for private poker games. A further door led to Matilda’s apartment, four rooms and a small kitchen. The back of the building was taken up with store-rooms, a large kitchen, washroom and changing room for performers, and a few smaller rooms intended for staff. A large cellar ran right under the building, and the privies were up a small path.

  ‘Put those books down, come over here and put your feet up,’ Zandra ordered Matilda as for yet another evening she had found her friend squinting at the accounts books by candlelight with a worried expression on her face.

  ‘I can’t, I haven’t got time,’ Matilda said in a weary voice. ‘We’ve spent well over the budget and I need to get the exact figure to give to Charles tomorrow.’

  The building costs were just over 3,000 dollars, all of which had been paid, but the stock, equipment, furniture and all the incidentals came to well over another 1,500, and a great many of these bills were still outstanding.

  Zandra just laughed, came over to the table, snapped the books shut, snatched the pencil from Matilda’s hand and pointed to the couch by the fire.

  ‘Charles won’t care. We all know it’s over budget, but the first week we’re open will take care of that. I want to talk to you.’

  When Zandra used that imperious tone everyone obeyed her, including Matilda. Reluctantly she moved to the couch.

  ‘Shoes off, feet up!’ Zandra said sharply. ‘And I’ve poured you a glass of brandy.’

  Matilda picked up the large goblet from the side table and sipped it cautiously. She had developed a taste for it since Zandra introduced her to it, but she still had a feeling hard liquor was dangerous.

  ‘In the last few weeks you have never stopped,’ Zandra said. ‘You can’t go on working at that pace, Matty, you’ll get sick, and then where will we be?’

  ‘I won’t get sick, I’m as strong as a horse,’ Matilda retorted.

  ‘I used to say that,’ Zandra smiled. ‘But then we are very alike in many ways. Working till you are on the point of collapse is a good way of avoiding one’s problems and heartaches. But I assure you, if you do collapse, they’ll come bounding up to hit you in the face.’

  ‘I don’t have any problems,’ Matilda said indignantly. ‘Other than worrying about whether everything will be finished in time, and whether the dancing girls will turn up for the opening.’

  ‘You do, you feel you are a bad mother.’

  That bald statement made Matilda’s head jerk up in surprise.

  ‘I’m right of course, so don’t deny it,’ Zandra said, waving one hand at Matilda. ‘I can’t possibly say anything to make you believe this isn’t so, but I can tell you I know how you feel, and that you’ve got to come to terms with your decision to leave your children. If you don’t, then you will become more and more unhappy, and when that happens to a woman the consequences can be disastrous.’

  Matilda looked at the brandy glass in her hand and wondered if Zandra meant she might get to like that too much.

  ‘Yes, that’s one way you could go,’ Zandra said, raising an eyebrow. ‘There’s allowing the wrong men into your life, spending more than you earn, even resorting to opiates. I know because I’ve been down all those roads.’

  Matilda was on the point of retorting that she wasn’t that big a fool, but she stopped herself, remembering Zandra had said she knew how she felt.

  The bond between her and Zandra had grown steadily strong in the past weeks. She no longer noticed that Zandra was old, wrinkled, with bad legs and few teeth, what she saw now was just a dear friend, someone she could trust, a woman who like herself had to have come through a great deal of personal suffering to be as knowledgeable and understanding as she was.

  ‘Did you leave a child?’ she said in little more than a whisper.

  Zandra nodded.

  ‘Can you tell me about it?’

  Zandra sighed. ‘I have never told anyone this before, Matty. So you must promise that even if we fall out one day it will remain a secret between us.’

  ‘Of course,’ Matilda replied.

  ‘I was seduced at seventeen by our coachman. My father horse-whipped him, and sent me off in disgrace to live with my aunt in Somerset,’ she said quickly as if by telling it fast she wouldn’t be able to feel the pain of it again now.

  ‘When I realized I was carrying a child I knew I could expect no help from my family, so I slipped off one night and made my way to Bath. I had been there once or twice before, and it appeared such a jolly place I suppose I thought someone there would help me. Someone did. I met a very distinguished gentleman, who seemed smitten with me. He had a big country estate, and when I told him my situation he said he would take care of everything.’ She winced and faltered. Clearly even rattling it out didn’t stop it hurting.

  ‘That care meant he had his way with me at any time, in any manner he chose, right up until my son Piers was born. Then he gave me an ultimatum. I was to have my “brat” as he called him farmed out, which he would pay for, and stay with him in luxury, or I was to get out immediately. Needless to say I left, unwisely taking a few of his valuables with me.’

  Matilda half smiled. ‘I would have done too.’

  Zandra shrugged. ‘He got some men to trace me, I had just settled in a little cottage, and they took everything away, not just what belonged to him, but my jewellery, and most of my clothes too. Suddenly for the first time in my life I was absolutely destitute. Alone with a baby I was looking after by instinct alone, for I certainly had no experience of caring for a child.’

  She stopped again, her eyes brimming with tears.

  ‘I can’t bear to tell you about what happened to me in that terrible year, Matty. Suffice it to say I suffered every kind of humiliation. I was hungry, dirty and desperate. Then, fearing my son would die of starvation, I finally wrote to my father and begged him to help me’

  ‘Don’t tell me he turned you away?’ Matilda exclaimed.

  ‘He refused to see me himself, but he sent me a little money and said I was to go and see his lawyer in London. It was there I had the proposition put to me. A friend of my father’s, another extremely wealthy man, was desperate for a son and heir. His wife had carried five until the seventh month, then each of them had been stillborn. They were willing to take Piers and bring him up as their own. I knew these people well, Matty, and I knew them to be kind and honourable. Anyway, the deal was that I was to hand Piers over to the lawyer and would be given two hundred pounds on the understanding I left the country and never came back.’

  She paused, and gave Matilda a defiant look. ‘I agreed. I chose to go to Paris because I spoke fluent French. The money I’d been given set me up to enter the only profession I had any qualifications for. I kept my end of the bargain and never went back.’

  Matilda moved over to kneel in front of Zandra. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered.

  Zandra shrugged and dabbed at her eyes. ‘I don’t regret giving my son a
way, if I had refused I doubt he would even have seen his second birthday. But what I do regret is taking that two hundred pounds,’ she said. ‘That’s my guilt, Matty. Even some fifty years later it still eats away at me.’

  ‘I don’t think you had much choice,’ she said.

  ‘I did,’ Zandra said. ‘I could have handed him over and walked away, but I took it because I knew without money behind me I’d die in the gutter.

  ‘Now, you chose to come here and leave your children with Cissie, no one forced you. And like me you have to live with that decision. It’s different for you, you haven’t given them away and walked out of their life for good, you certainly haven’t taken money for them, and I know you’ll be paying for their keep. But I know it troubles you deeply just the same. However, you must find a way of forgiving yourself, Matty, because if you don’t you’ll become hard and ruthless, just like me.’

  ‘I don’t think you are hard or ruthless,’ Matilda said, and she stroked the older woman’s face tenderly. ‘Maybe that was my first impression but it soon left.’

  ‘My first impression of you was a woman with a big heart,’ Zandra said softly. ‘That impression has remained in place, just make sure it stays there.’

  On opening night the flaming torches outside London Lil’s were lit at eight and the band struck up a merry jig as the doors were opened. The huge crowd which had been gradually gathering in the past hour burst in like a flood.

  There were those who had said no one would want to walk up the steep hill for a drink, not even if dancing girls and fire-eaters were thrown in, but they did walk up the hill, rode horses and mules and drove carts and carriages – everyone wanted to take a look.

  Dolores had arranged Matilda’s hair into fat curls on the top of her head, and she could hardly believe that the sophisticated woman staring back at her in the looking-glass was really her. Her dress was a present from Zandra, an old dress of her own, but taken apart and remade by the dressmaker who had once made her girls’ gowns. It was blue velvet, indecently low cut over her bosom, or so she thought, but Zandra insisted that she couldn’t look like a school marm, and besides, it was the latest fashion in Paris. She’d dyed some elbow-length lace gloves to match, and beneath her dress, holding up her stockings, were red garters, a present Charles had given her. He’d laughed at her shocked expression when she opened the box. He said she might be proper and demure on the outside, but he knew she had a wicked streak and she was to wear them for luck. Somehow just putting them on made her feel reckless and naughty, and she liked the feeling.