No Wings to Fly

by Jess Foley

  The boy made a little circle with his thumb and forefinger. ‘It was that big.’

  Miss Cattock smiled indulgently and Mrs Soameson gave a smothered little laugh. ‘Oh, Joshie, my dear,’ she said, ‘I don’t think Miss Clair wants to hear about your old scab.’

  He looked a little surprised at this. ‘Oh,’ he said, and then, frowning a little, head slightly on one side, he asked, ‘Don’t you?’

  Lily said at once, ‘Oh, indeed I do. Of course I do.’

  Taking encouragement from her words he stepped towards her. ‘Look,’ he said, hiking up the sleeve of his pale blue shirt. ‘The doctor scratched me and I had a bad arm.’ He tugged on his shirt sleeve, frowning as he did so, as it refused to be pulled up much above his elbow,

  ‘He has to show you,’ Mrs Soameson said. ‘He won’t be satisfied till he does.’ Then to the boy she said, ‘But why don’t we leave it till another time, Joshie.’

  ‘All right.’ He sighed, then said to Lily, ‘Another time.’

  ‘Yes,’ Lily said, ‘another time. I won’t forget.’ She was mesmerised. He was standing so close to her, and as she looked down at him she could see near his left ear the tiny crescent-shaped birthmark. Of course she had never forgotten it, but seeing it again she was in danger of losing her composure.

  Mrs Soameson smiled at the boy, then turned to speak to the nurse. ‘I think you’d better take him along now, Nurse. Miss Clair and Lavinia will want to get started with their lessons.’

  ‘Come along, Josh.’ Miss Cattock put her hand on the boy’s shoulder and together they moved towards the door.

  ‘Goodbye, Joshua,’ Lily said as the child was led away, and he turned and said, ‘They call me Josh, or Joshie.’

  ‘Oh – right you are, then,’ Lily said. ‘I won’t forget.’

  The nurse and the child left the room, and Lily heard the boy’s voice fade along the landing.

  ‘I shall leave you too,’ Mrs Soameson said. She moved back to the open door as she spoke. ‘If you need anything, I shall be downstairs.’

  ‘Thank you, ma’am,’ Lily said. ‘We’ll be fine.’

  The door closed, and Lily and Lavinia were left alone.

  ‘Well,’ Lily said to the girl, ‘we’ll make a start with our lessons, shall we?’ Stepping to the table, she took up one of the primers she had brought with her. ‘I think we’ll begin with some English history.’

  That evening after supper, and after the children were asleep in bed, Lily returned to the schoolroom and sat at the table to write letters. She wrote first of all to Mr Corelman, informing him of her new address and asking him if he would be kind enough to forward any post that should arrive for her. She was, of course, thinking of correspondence from Joel, for he would assume her to be at Seston. However, given the circumstances of her final meeting with Mr Corelman, she had no great hopes that he would accede to her request.

  When this letter was finished, she wrote to Miss Elsie, saying that her first day at The Gables had gone well, and that Lavinia was proving a willing and industrious pupil. Of her meeting with the boy she said nothing. When her letters were sealed in their envelopes she walked along the lane to put them in the post box.

  That night she lay in her bed in her new room, her strange room, though growing less strange with the passing minutes. Through a chink in the curtains she could see a sliver of the September moon. The house was quiet and in the hush she could hear the faint creaks and cracks as the timbers settled. A night owl hooted over the gardens, its mournful little cry hanging in the air.

  The thought of Joel came into her head. Where was he now? And what of Tom? She could not think of him and his torment without her heart sinking with despair. He must be in touch with her soon.

  She shifted on the pillow, listening to the hush. Across the landing in the nursery the children would be long asleep. She pictured the boy lying in his cot, his eyes tight shut, his mouth slightly open as he breathed evenly and untroubled into the quiet. When he had been standing before her she had wanted to touch him, but she had not. He had been near to her, though, and she must be content with that.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  On her first Sunday in Happerfell Lily went to church, as was expected of her, along with Mrs Lemmon the cook, Lizzie, and Susie the daily maid, and then in the afternoon joined Lavinia and Mrs Soameson in the morning room, each of them working with her needle. Lily was happy to help out with some of the house mending while the child worked at a piece of embroidery. After luncheon she accompanied Lavinia to the church hall where the Sunday-school class was held for the village children, there leaving her at the door while she herself continued on to take a short walk in the pleasant air. Later, indoors again, she managed to spend a little time with Miss Cattock and the boy. It was something she hoped for each day – being in the presence of the child, for no matter how short a time. At such meetings she would have liked to be close to him, to talk to him, and even, wonder of wonders, perhaps to hold him, but that was too much to hope for. Most of the time he seemed scarcely aware that she was even in the room, preoccupied as he was with his own desires, and any obvious affection that he showed was usually directed to his mother or the nurse. Lily wanted to say to him Oh, look at me, do, but she could not, and kept silent. She must be glad of what she could get – and even if he should be sleeping while she and the nurse whispered in conversation together, it was better than not being in his presence at all.

  As her days at The Gables came and went, Lily quickly grew accustomed to the routine in her new employment. She spent hours of each day teaching Lavinia, mostly in the schoolroom, but on a few occasions taking advantage of the lingering Indian summer and going out with her into the surrounding lanes and meadows, there studying the wildlife, taking notes and making sketches. In the evenings too she spent time with the girl, though in more relaxed pursuits, such as needlework or playing Snakes and Ladders. Afterwards, when Lavinia had gone to bed, Lily would be left to her own devices, and after her supper sat in her room or in the schoolroom and read a book or the newspapers, and prepared her lessons for the next day. She saw little of Mr Soameson – he would usually be off early in the morning and not get back till fairly late in the evening – but saw Mrs Soameson quite frequently. Now and again during the day the woman would come up, tap on the door and slip into the room where Lily and Lavinia were at work. ‘All well?’ she would ask in a loud whisper, and, satisfied, would leave again a minute later.

  On Tuesday there came a letter from Miss Elsie. With little news to report, she simply wrote that all at Rowanleigh was well apart from the fact that Mr Shad had injured his back in trying to lift the trap. So, for the time being, she said, she would have to drive herself on any errands. There had not, she remarked, been any letters in the post for Lily, but anything that arrived would be forwarded to her at once.

  The following afternoon, Lily received a letter from Joel. It had been sent to Laenar House at Seston, and forwarded on. So Mr Corelman had been the honourable gentleman after all.

  Lizzie brought the letter to Lily where she sat at her table in the schoolroom with Lavinia working at her desk close by. When the maid had gone, Lily sat looking at the envelope with the Seston address written in Joel’s now-familiar hand, and the Happerfell address scrawled across it by Mr Corelman or someone from his household.

  Lily put the letter on the table, and there it lay while Lavinia worked at her English composition, and while Lily tried to give her attention to some French grammar that she had set her mind on studying. Then at last the day’s lessons were over and she was alone in the room. In moments the envelope was open and the letter was in her hand. She read:

  Hotel Metropole

  Ave Rue d’Echelle

  Brussels

  14th September 1871

  My dearest Lily,

  By this time you’ll be well into your new employment at Seston. I do hope it is going well for you and that you are happy there. I cannot but think that any child
would be fortunate to have you for his teacher. Oh, Lily, I think of you so much, and wonder about you, trying to picture you at your work. It seems that you are always with me.

  I have to tell you that I have been kept very busy over here. What with travelling about and inspecting and buying new products I am kept hopping and no mistake. My father was due to come here from Paris, but my mother writes that he has been considerably under the weather, so I am having to manage a good deal on my own. I don’t think I have ever had to use my own judgement to quite such an extent! Still, now that I’m in at the deep end I venture that I’m learning at a very swift pace.

  One thing I am sure of: I should be happy not to see the inside of a hotel room ever again. This hotel is comfortable enough, and I lack for very little, but I miss the familiar comforts of home.

  You can write to me here until the 4th of October at which time I am scheduled to leave for Paris. After a brief stay there, I shall return to England, and you. Until that time you will continue to be in the loving thoughts of

  Your

  Joel

  ps Last night I was thinking of the two of us sitting at the table in the little house in Corster. I could see you as you sat facing me while the rain lashed against the window. I remember the woodpecker there too. I said many things to you that afternoon, and believe me, I meant them all.

  When Lily had finished the letter she read it through again, anticipating certain words and phrases, and hanging on them. His letter had been written on the forteenth and it was now the twenty-seventh. Having gone first to Seston it had taken almost two weeks to reach her. He would be wondering why he had not had any word from her in reply. She must write at once before he left for France, and inform him of her new situation and new address. It would not be so very long before he was back.

  As the days passed, Lily gave Lavinia her lessons and, whenever possible, managed to spend a little time in the company of the boy. She and Emily Cattock were becoming good friends, and Lily frequently went into the nursery for five or ten minutes here or there where the nurse was to be found with the child. On two or three occasions she accompanied them on little walks in the golden autumn weather. The second Saturday – a day a little more relaxed as far as Lavinia’s teaching routine was concerned – marked one such time, and Lily and the nurse and the two children left the house to walk into the fields. It was a warm day, though with a haze of cloud that gave a half promise of rain later on. For now, though, it was pleasant. Keeping to the footpaths beside the hedgerows, they moved at a leisurely pace, in keeping with Joshua’s short strides. Over on the hillsides some of the fields were black from the burnt stubble, while in others the straw lay in bales.

  As the two young women sauntered side by side along the footpaths, the children showed interest in everything around them, and were for ever darting off to look more closely at some miraculous discovery, but when the boy found something of interest it was to his nurse that he turned.

  They did not stay out long, for the clouds were darkening, and by the time they got back to the house the hint of promised rain had become a real threat. In the hall they were met by Mrs Soameson, who invited Lily to join her for tea in the drawing room. When Lily went in at the appointed time she found her mistress sitting on the sofa with Joshua standing at her knee, playing with a toy horse. The tea had just been brought in by Lizzie, and as Lily sat in an armchair Mrs Soameson poured out the cups.

  ‘I thought this would be a good opportunity to have a little chat,’ Mrs Soameson said as she handed Lily her tea. ‘Just to see how you’re settling in, now that you’ve been here for more than a week.’

  ‘I’m sure I’m settling in very well, ma’am, thank you,’ Lily said. As she spoke, the boy, oblivious to the conversation, cooed and clicked his teeth, making little galloping noises while he jumped his toy horse along the arm of the chair.

  Mrs Soameson said over his little sounds, ‘Well, that’s good – and the lessons are going well, are they?’

  ‘Yes, indeed, ma’am. I believe they are.’

  ‘Splendid. That’s what I expected to hear. I know Lavinia seems quite settled already – so that’s excellent.’ She glanced off through the window. ‘I hope the rain keeps off. Nurse has gone down to the shops so I trust she took an umbrella. I must say it’s not looking very promising.’ She lightly touched a kiss to the top of the boy’s head. ‘Don’t you agree with that, Joshie?’

  Joshua yawned at this, at which Mrs Soameson nodded and said, ‘And quite the right response, indeed. You don’t want to be patronised, do you?’ To Lily she said, ‘He’s a little tired. He didn’t sleep well last night, and Nurse said he couldn’t settle for his nap at lunch time.’ She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘Heaven knows when Mr Soameson will be home. He spends so much of his time at the factory, and he has done ever since we got here. When we came down from Edinburgh it was meant to be only a fairly temporary thing, not more than a couple of years, but it’s been five. I think the mill was something of a challenge to him. We could have sold it on, of course, but that would have been too easy. Mind you, he’s had enough of it now, and is anxious to get back to Scotland. Well, for one thing, his father’s health is not the most robust. He’s a wonderful old gentleman, and he’s kept the family business going like clockwork, but he can’t go on for ever. It’s time my husband went back and took over the reins.

  ‘Look . . . look.’

  The child’s piping voice came as he moved from his mother’s knee to Lily, holding up his toy horse as he did so. ‘Look.’

  ‘Look,’ Mrs Soameson echoed fondly. ‘I think that’s his favourite word – “Look”.’

  ‘Look,’ the boy said to Lily.

  She smiled at him. ‘Yes, I’m looking. That’s a most splendid horse, Joshie. Have you got a name for him?’

  He nodded. ‘He’s Mr Charlie Dobbin.’

  ‘Mr Charlie Dobbin, eh? Well – that’s a nice name.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said gravely. He held the horse a little higher for Lily to see. ‘He’s got a proper bridle, look.’

  ‘Yes, he has indeed.’

  The boy hopped the little horse along the arm of the overstuffed chair, clicking his tongue as he went, then lifted it in a little arc to land on Lily’s thigh. ‘Look,’ he said as he jogged the toy horse along on her skirt, ‘he jumps so high.’

  ‘He’s a very clever little animal, isn’t he?’ Lily said, ‘and a very handsome one too.’

  He nodded, his lips compressed in his concentration. Mrs Soameson said to him, ‘Mind you don’t spill Miss Clair’s tea, Josh,’ then to Lily, ‘Don’t let him be a nuisance, Miss Clair.’

  Lily replied at once, ‘Oh, he’s not, he’s not. He’s perfectly fine.’ She smiled warmly at the boy. ‘You are, aren’t you, Josh? Perfectly fine.’

  As she spoke there came a knock on the door, which opened and Lizzie put her head round and said, ‘Mum, I’m sorry to disturb you, but the sweep’s here, and I don’t know which chimneys you wants done.’

  Mrs Soameson got up from her seat. ‘I’ll come and see to it,’ she said. She turned to Lily. ‘Will you look after Joshie for a minute, Miss Clair? I shan’t be long.’

  ‘Of course,’ Lily replied.

  To the child, Mrs Soameson said, ‘You stay with Miss Clair, Joshie. I’ll be back soon.’ Next moment she had gone from the room, closing the door behind her and leaving Lily alone with the child.

  Lily set down her empty cup and now turned her full attention to the boy. ‘Are you going to show me what your horse can do?’ she said to him. Every instinct in her being prompted her to reach out and touch him, but she kept her hands clasped before her.

  ‘You know he can gallop too,’ the child said gravely.

  ‘He can gallop? Really?’

  ‘Oh, yes, look.’ He jogged the little horse back and forth along the chair’s arm, making the now familiar clip-clopping noises as he went. ‘Did you see?’

  ‘Yes, I did. Very good.’

>   All at once the child stopped the horse’s movements and let his hand fall. As Lily looked at him she saw his eyes momentarily droop, and he opened his mouth in a yawn. ‘You’re a tired little man, aren’t you?’ she said.

  He rested against her leg and shook his head. ‘No,’ he murmured, and yawned again. ‘I’m not tired.’ He leant closer, draping himself languidly against her, his horse for the moment forgotten. The room seemed very still. Lily said, ‘I think perhaps Mr Charlie Dobbin is a little tired, is he?’

  He lifted his head and smiled. ‘No, he’s not tired. He’s never tired.’ His lips were soft pink, his skin flawless, his eyes wide and totally trusting. He lifted the toy horse and jogged it two or three times on Lily’s thigh, then let his hand fall again. From far off came the faint rumble of thunder, and the boy heard it and at once pressed closer to her, his left hand rising, small fingers clutching at the fabric of her skirt. Sensing his fear, Lily put her hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘It’s just a little thunder. Nothing to be alarmed about.’

  He said nothing, but stayed with his arm across her, tense. As the skies had darkened, the light in the room had dimmed. Both she and the boy were listening. Then into the silence came another rumble of thunder, this time much nearer, louder. He pressed closer, and Lily’s other hand came up and lay upon him. ‘You’re not afraid, are you?’ she said. ‘Don’t be afraid.’

  He looked up at her again and dumbly shook his head.

  ‘Good,’ she said. ‘You don’t need to be afraid.’ Then she added, meaning every breath of each word, ‘I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.’

  A sudden, sharp clap of thunder came, cracking from the heavens as if it might split the lowering sky. It was so loud that Lily was startled, and under her touch she felt the boy flinch and draw in his breath.

  ‘Come,’ she said, ‘come . . .’ and in a second she was wrapping her arms around him and lifting him up, and he was lying in her lap, his face against the softness of her bosom. She thought she might never move again. Moments passed and she began to feel the tension easing a little from his taut form, and then suddenly the room was lit up by a flash of lightning followed by another crack of thunder. He gave a gasp and stiffened in her arms and burrowed deeper into her body. ‘It’s all right,’ she murmured. ‘It’s all right.’