No Wings to Fly

by Jess Foley

  As she stepped out into the street the church clock struck eight. The gaslamps had been lit, and in the gloom she stood looking along the row of shops towards the square, and then up to the left, in the direction of the town hall and the municipal buildings, peering at the shadows of the anonymous figures that moved in the lamps’ glow. Where was Joel? What could have happened to him?

  She continued to stand there on the pavement, close to the restaurant’s entrance. She would wait a further half-hour; she would not move until the clock struck half-past. She stayed there while the evening sojourners strolled past and as the diners in the restaurant finished their dinners and emerged, replete, to head for their homes.

  The night air was growing chill now, and a keen wind came whipping up from the direction of the river. She must go. On the church tower the clock struck a single chime. As the sound died away she turned and walked miserably towards the station.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  In the schoolroom next day Lily continued about her duties, giving Lavinia her lessons, while downstairs the preparations continued apace for the move to Scotland. While Mrs Soameson supervised the sorting and the packing of the things that would go up north, Mr Soameson was out of the house on his own business, only getting home late in the evenings, too exhausted to do more.

  When Tuesday came, with no word from Joel, Lily felt increasingly at a loss. She had no way of knowing even where he was. There was no point in writing to him in Paris if he had already left, while at the same time she balked at writing to him at his family home in Corster. She could do nothing other than continue to wait.

  She was in turmoil as she lay in bed that night, her mind constantly torn. One moment she would be thinking of Joel, and then, in trying to wrench her thoughts in a different direction, she would find herself thinking of Tom, and the inquest next day at which she must attend. At other times she found her thoughts straying to the small child who slept in his little bed on the other side of the landing. It was close on three o’clock when she eventually fell asleep.

  From Corster Junction station the next morning she took an omnibus to the coroner’s court, arriving with plenty of time to spare. On giving her name to a clerk at a desk she was directed to a side room and instructed to wait until the court was in session, after which time she would be called in. The room she entered was a shabby, soulless place with marks and stains on the walls, and cuts and scratches in the wood of the centre table and the benches. It was empty when she went in, but after several minutes other people began to arrive. Where some were poorly dressed and coarsely spoken, others were obviously of a higher class. All of them, she assumed, were there as witnesses. Among them she recognised the two young women who had been in the museum that day and who had seen Tom’s plunge from the window.

  As the clock on the wall ticked the time away, people came and went, while those waiting shuffled their feet, and muttered to one another in low conversations. Some seemed relatively light-hearted, while others appeared grave and preoccupied. Two or three of the men sat smoking pipes or cigarettes, and the smoke drifted in the stale air and clung to the tobacco-stained walls. Every so often an officer of the court appeared at the door and called out the name of someone required in the courtroom. At last, after what seemed an age, Lily’s own name was called.

  A few minutes later she was in the courtroom, standing before the court officials and a handful of spectators, answering the coroner’s questions. In a low voice, halting at times, she spoke of her last moments with Tom in the museum gallery, and also of the accident which had resulted in the amputation of his hand. There could be no question to anyone but that his final act had been anything but deliberate, but the elderly coroner seemed to understand the total desperation of Tom’s last moments, and spoke of him in kindly tones.

  At last she was told she might step down, and the coroner announced an adjournment until two-thirty. She was instructed to return at that time. Rather than sit in the waiting room she wandered out into the street, and from there to a coffee house where she drank a cup of tea. She was back in the courthouse well before two-thirty, and after sitting waiting for an hour was informed by the clerk that the inquiry was over and that she was free to go. He went on to say that there had been a verdict returned of ‘Suicide while the balance of the mind was disturbed’. She nodded and thanked him and went out into the grey November afternoon. It was over.

  Returning to Happerfell, Lily hoped that she would find that there was some word from Joel awaiting her, but there was none. Mrs Soameson, however, sought Lily out and asked her to join her in the drawing room. When Lily went in, she found her talking with an aproned workman who was taking down some of the pictures and wrapping them to be packed for transport. Mrs Soameson stayed long enough to give the man further instructions, then left him, saying to Lily, ‘Come, let’s go somewhere where we can talk for a minute.’ She led the way into the morning room, sat down and gestured for Lily to be seated in the chair opposite.

  ‘Was it awful?’ she asked. ‘I thought of you so many times, having to go through that. It must have been dreadful for you. So very upsetting.’

  ‘Yes,’ Lily murmured with a little nod. ‘Yes, it was – difficult.’

  ‘And is it – all over now?’

  ‘Yes. There was a verdict. Now it’s finished.’

  ‘I see. And the verdict – it was what you expected?’

  ‘Yes. Suicide.’

  Mrs Soameson let out her breath on a deep sigh. ‘It’s so tragic,’ she said. ‘Such a young life. Wasted like that.’

  Lily said nothing, but sat with lips compressed, not trusting herself to speak. After a moment Mrs Soameson said, leaning forward a little in her chair:

  ‘The business – with the inquest this morning – that isn’t the only reason I wanted to talk to you now. Something has come up. We’re leaving even sooner than we’d planned.’

  ‘You’re not going at the end of next week?’

  ‘No, we’re not. We’re leaving on Saturday.’

  ‘On Saturday? This coming Saturday?’

  Mrs Soameson nodded. ‘Indeed we are – and it’s all such a terrible rush, but it’s got to be done. Something has come up in Scotland – all to do with the business and the house – and Mr Soameson says there’s nothing for it but that we get there as soon as possible.’ Her tone changed a little as she added, ‘This whole thing is an upheaval for you too, I know. When you came here you were expecting to stay on at least another month, and now it’s thrown all your plans up into the air. I’m so sorry it’s happened for you this way.’

  Lily said, ‘Well – if it has to be, ma’am. It can’t be helped.’

  ‘No, it can’t be helped. I’m afraid it can’t.’ A pause. ‘However, you won’t need to go back to Sherrell any sooner, for we’d like you to stay on for a week or so and help Nurse look after Joshie. It’ll give her a little respite when she needs it.’

  ‘But – isn’t he going with you on Saturday?’

  ‘Well, we’ve decided against it. I don’t think it would be a good idea at all. I think he’s coming down with a little cold, and I don’t want him taking that awful long journey if he’s under the weather. And the house in Edinburgh will be in such a state – it’s going to need all our concentration to get it in order and to find places for our things. Lavinia’s coming with us, but I think it’s better that Joshie stays on for a while. I thought you might also, while you’re here, be able to help Mrs Lemmon and Susie with some of the packing that’s yet to be done. If you have time, of course. There won’t be a lot, but it would be a great help to us if you could manage it.’

  ‘Yes, of course. I’ll help in any way I can.’

  ‘Are you sure you don’t mind? Staying on to help with Josh?’

  ‘No, not at all. I’ll be glad to do it.’

  ‘He’s not a demanding child, as you know, and he’s fond of you. Are you sure it’s not a terrible imposition?’

  ‘No,’ Lily said at
once. ‘Not at all.’

  ‘Good. That’s splendid. I thought also that you might do a little work with him on his letters – now that he’s beginning to read. What d’you think of that?’

  ‘Yes. Oh, yes, I’d love to.’

  ‘He’s a bright boy. I’ve been going through his little primers with him – as Miss Cattock has too – and he learns very quickly.’

  ‘Oh, I’d love to help him, if I can,’ Lily said.

  Mrs Soameson nodded. ‘That’s excellent. Mr Soameson and I have talked it over – and we’d like you to stay on till the Sunday of next week. That’s the twelfth. Would that be all right?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Splendid. Joshie should be over his cold by then and we’ll have had a week to get the house in order. Miss Cattock can bring him up on the train, setting out on that day, Sunday. They’ll travel overnight and we’ll meet them from the train on Monday morning. I hope by then we shall have everything ready for him. He doesn’t like upheaval. It tends to make him anxious. Did I tell you that Lizzie will be coming along with us also on Saturday? We shall need all the help we can get, I tell you, though Mrs Lemmon will be staying behind for a few days, as will Mr Beeching. They’ll be joining us a little later too.’ She gestured to where two large tea-chests stood near the wall. ‘All this endless packing. We seem to have accumulated so much while we’ve been here. A lot of it went off this morning – quite a wagon-load. It’s going to be chaos there till we get things sorted out.’ She gave a sigh, then added, ‘Anyway, that’s not your problem. Mr Soameson will see about your wages before we leave, of course.’

  ‘Thank you, ma’am.’

  ‘I don’t mind telling you that Lavinia’s going to miss you so much, Miss Clair.’

  ‘I shall miss her.’

  Mrs Soameson nodded, pleased. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘I suppose we must get back to work . . .’ She rose from her seat as she spoke, and Lily rose along with her. In the hall they separated, Mrs Soameson to go back to her packing chores in the drawing room, and Lily to return to the schoolroom and Lavinia.

  Thursday and Friday passed and there was still no letter from Joel. It was a week since he had been due to return to England, and there had been not a single word.

  Lily was up and breakfasted well before the first postal delivery on Saturday morning, but again there was nothing for her. She had no time to brood, however. There were so many last-minute preparations to be made before her employers’ departure for the station, and she felt obliged to do what she could to help. Shortly after a hurried and informal luncheon, Mr Soameson came to her in the schoolroom where she was packing away her text book primers and papers. There he thanked her for her work with Lavinia, and presented her with a new reference, remarking as he did so that it was glowing, and should surely help her in securing a new post. In addition, he paid her the balance of her wages, and was kind enough to give her a little bonus in recognition of her employment being terminated earlier than had been anticipated. When it was all done he shook her hand, wished her luck in her future career, and said he hoped that one day they might meet again.

  After he had gone, Mrs Soameson and Lavinia came into the room. Lavinia’s eyes were moist as she said goodbye, and impulsively she put her arms around her. Lily bent and kissed the child, and for some moments they held one another. ‘I’ll write to you, miss,’ Lavinia said, a little tearfully. ‘Will you write to me?’ Lily replied that of course she would.

  When the final goodbyes had been said, Lavinia went from the room, leaving Lily and Mrs Soameson alone. After reassuring herself that Mr Soameson had satisfactorily settled everything with Lily with regard to her wages and her reference, Mrs Soameson handed Lily a slip of paper bearing the family’s Edinburgh address, and exhorted her to write at once should there be any problem. ‘You’ll go back to Sherrell when you leave here next Sunday, will you?’ she asked, and Lily replied that she would, and would probably remain there until she found a new position.

  Then it was time for farewells, and for Lily to wish her mistress a pleasant journey. At this Mrs Soameson gave a groaning little laugh and said, ‘Oh, that journey! Almost eleven hours, and I can never sleep on those trains. We shall be wrecks by the time we arrive.’ With a final goodbye she moved to the doorway. She must, she said, go and spend some last few minutes with Joshie. ‘His cold is worse,’ she added, ‘and he so wants to come with us. But I can’t put him through that exhausting journey – not the way he’s feeling.’

  It was close on two o’clock, and soon afterwards Lily – now having said her goodbyes to Lizzie too – stood at the window of her room looking down onto the back yard. There she watched as Mr Soameson and Lavinia and the maid got into the carriage, ready to start on the first part of their journey. Mrs Soameson stood with Joshua in her arms until the last moment, at which point she kissed him and then handed him over to Miss Cattock who stood nearby. Two minutes later the carriage was rattling down the drive and out onto the road.

  The atmosphere in the house was strange without its recently departed inhabitants. Later in the afternoon, released from her teaching schedule, Lily helped Susie, the daily maid, with the packing of some linen and a little china, and afterwards went up to the nursery to join Emily Cattock and the boy. The child’s cold had well and truly taken hold and he lay in his bed listless and fretful.

  Lily ate dinner that evening with Miss Cattock, Mrs Lemmon and Susie in the servants’ dining room. Later, she went up to the schoolroom where she sat at her table and wrote to Miss Elsie, telling her that her employment with the Soamesons would terminate on the coming Sunday, and that she would be returning to Sherrell some time that day.

  The next day was the fifth of November. Lily spent the day in desultory occupations, helping where she could and also spending time with the boy and his nurse. In the evening there came the sound of fireworks – cracks and bangs coming from the direction of the village centre – and she and Emily Cattock stood at the nursery window and looked out towards the flares of light. Over on a hill through the gathering autumn mist they saw the glow of a distant bonfire where yet another effigy of Guy Fawkes was burning.

  Monday came . . . Tuesday . . . Still no word from Joel. The red-jacketed postman came to the house on both days, but brought nothing for Lily. Joel must have had an accident, she told herself. It was the only answer. Either that or he had been taken ill. But where? Was he still in France? Was he in England? Yet again she thought of writing to him at his home in Corster, but when it came to it she drew back. She would be a part of his life one day, and one day soon, but that time was not yet. And yet, if he were sick, would he be so sick that he could not even write a few lines? The questions spun and pounded through her brain.

  On Wednesday Joshua appeared somewhat brighter, and in the morning, while Emily Cattock worked at her sewing, Lily sat with the boy on the rug before the fire and spread his coloured bricks before him. They were painted with the letters of the alphabet and simple words, and bright pictures of animals. Together Lily and the boy went through them as he named the letters and words, and then tried to read out the short sentences that Lily composed. He was thrilled to find that he was successful almost without fail, and Lily and Emily applauded him. At the sound of their approval he chuckled, pleased with himself and eagerly asked for more.

  In the afternoon, after the boy’s nap, Lily and the nurse took him outside to get a little fresh air – advocated always by Mrs Soameson – all three wrapped up against the sharp breeze. Mr Beeching, taking advantage of the spell of dry weather, was cutting the grass of the back lawn, the last cut of the season. He was standing with legs astride, rhythmically swinging the scythe, the hush and swish of the blade sounding keen in the November air. Lily and Emily and the boy walked past him down the central path between the lawns, down wide stone steps into a lower area beyond, where more lawns and flowerbeds were laid out.

  Leaving the formal garden behind, they followed the path down through the kitchen
garden and into the orchard. In the summer, Miss Cattock said, Joshie had been happy to play among the trees with his sister, and to amuse himself on the swing that hung from one of the apple-tree boughs. Today, though, when asked if he would like to go on the swing he shook his head and said no, he would rather go back indoors. At his words, the three of them turned and started back towards the house.

  The accident happened as they were climbing the broad steps that separated the lower part of the formal garden from the higher. Lily was in front, with Joshua and the nurse immediately behind. As Lily moved onto the top step she heard Emily give a little squeal of fright, added to at once by a cry from the boy. Turning quickly at the sounds, she was just in time to see the nurse falling in an awkward heap at the foot of the steps.

  Joshua, halfway up the steps, stood with his hands pressed to his face, his expression contorted in horror at the sight as he let out a wail. Stepping down past him, Lily was quickly at the other young woman’s side, bending over her as she lay on the path, one leg twisted beneath her and the other at an uncomfortable-looking angle with her boot propped up on the lowest step. She was grimacing in pain, her breath coming out through gritted teeth. All the while Joshua was wailing, shaken by the violent drama of the accident and seeing the pain in the nurse’s face. Lily turned to him and said quickly, soothingly, ‘It’s all right, Joshie. Nursie will be all right. She’s just had a little fall. Don’t be upset.’ She turned her attention back to the nurse. ‘Can you get up, Emily? Let me help you.’

  With some difficulty she helped the nurse up into a sitting position, though it was not without the young woman suffering considerable discomfort. ‘I’ve hurt my ankle,’ the nurse said. ‘I don’t know whether I can stand on it.’