by Adele Geras
Uncle William told such hair-raising stories of the cottage and the behaviour of Mr. Bright that everyone agreed he couldn’t possibly have left his sister-in-law in such a situation. Uncle Percy simply said, “Well, all’s well that ends well. That is all. Cecily is in grave need of support and shelter and we are happy to provide it. You’re welcome, my dear.”
On her first night in London, Lizzie’s mother slept on a day-bed in the morning room, but the very next day the whole house was turned upside down, it seemed, as Aunt Victoria and Grandmama decided who was to give up their room for the new arrival. In the end, after much discussion, it was arranged. Cecily would have Lucy and Lizzie’s room and the two girls would move in with Clara.
“I hope you’re not too upset, Clara,” said Lizzie, as she arranged her clothes in the new chest of drawers.
“I leave the grumbling to my little sister,” said Clara. “She’s the one who seems most put out. I am sorry not to have my own room any longer, but it can’t be helped. Hugh couldn’t move in with you, and I don’t think Uncle William would be comfortable in the attic, as he suggested. No, this is the best arrangement. After all, your mother will soon have a baby to care for, so she will need a larger bedroom than Hugh’s in any case.”
“It won’t be for long,” said Lizzie. “Mama intends to rest here for a few weeks and then return to the cottage.”
As she spoke, she began to dread that day, but how was it to be prevented? How could she keep her mother here in London when Mama’s husband was elsewhere and where, besides, she was creating so much inconvenience, whatever everyone said to the contrary?
Clara said, “She is welcome for as long as she wishes to stay, you know. For my part, I would love to care for a small baby. I am going to enrol at the nursing school next year, whatever Mama and Grandmama say. I’ve been persuading Papa of my unwavering desire to be a nurse whenever I happen to be alone with him and he’s said that perhaps he would speak to them both. All nurses have to know about babies, do they not?”
“Yes, I’m sure they do,” said Lizzie. “And you’d be such a good nurse, Clara.”
For a few days after her mother’s arrival, Lizzie quite forgot about her walnut, but when she remembered, she went at once to see how it had grown. Her disappointment when she saw that nothing had happened nearly made her cry. She resolved to be much more attentive in the future. So, every day, Lizzie went out to the garden and gazed into the cold frame, looking at the pot in which she had buried her walnut. She was beginning to think that maybe she had dreamed it all. It was hard to believe in a growing thing if it showed no signs of growth. All she could see in the pot was brown earth and more brown earth, and each time she visited the cold frame, Lizzie made a fervent wish, in the hope of persuading her walnut to grow.
“Please, little walnut, come out. Come out soon. You’ve been asleep for a very long time and you must wake up now. Please come out. Oh, I do wish you would!”
She made quite sure that no one was listening when she whispered these words. Lucy would have thought she was very silly and she did not dare to guess what Hugh would have said. Lizzie herself knew that it was not a scientific way to make plants come out of the earth, but she didn’t think it would do any harm.
Shortly before Christmas, Uncle Percy received a letter from Mr. Bright. He summoned the whole family to the drawing room to hear what it said.
“I have here,” he announced, “a letter from Cecily’s husband, Mr. Eli Bright. I have already read it to Cecily and indeed she has received a letter too, with much the same information, though that is private to her, of course. I wish to tell you all what Mr. Bright says, because it will affect our life as a family and our future for the next few months at least.” He coughed. “I shall read you the letter now: Since my wife left me at the persuasion of your brother, I have been considering what is best for us all to do. I understand that life here is not as comfortable as it might be, but that is simply out of my desire to economize and my dislike of spending good money on frivolities. I believe that we all have too much luxury and that our reward for going without in this world will be riches in the next.
Since Cecily is being cared for by you for the moment, I have taken the opportunity to put into action a plan I have nurtured for a long time. I am setting sail for West Africa in a few days’ time, and intend to see whether the Church will be able to make use of me as a missionary there. Perhaps Cecily will join me in Africa when our child is old enough to travel safely to foreign parts. Until that time, I am grateful indeed that she has a family willing to care for her welfare and that of our child…”
Uncle Percy looked around. “The rest of the letter is not relevant.”
Lizzie found that her heart was beating very fast. What did this mean? Surely Mama wouldn’t think of going to live in Africa, even after the baby was old enough to travel. What would become of me, thought Lizzie, if she did? Uncle Percy was speaking again…
“I’ve considered this matter carefully and decided that we should do nothing for the moment. William will go down to the cottage and make enquiries about renting it out for the time being. When Cecily’s child is born, and once the weather is warmer, we will see whether she can return to her home, with Lizzie and her new baby. But, until then, I am happy that we can give them a comfortable home. And, of course, it is out of the question for a very young child to travel to such an inhospitable climate. Mr. Eli Bright will have to resign himself to visiting England on home leave for the time being.”
“Yes, indeed,” said Grandmama. “I would not wish a grandchild of mine to go travelling about the globe in his infancy. Home’s best and for the moment, this is your home, Cecily. I would not wish John’s widow to lack for anything.”
Lizzie thought that Grandmama’s words were fine and kind, but her grandmother didn’t look as though she relished the thought of this extended stay. Lizzie, however, could hardly believe her good fortune. It seemed that she and Mama would be living in London for the present. How strange it would be to have Mr. Bright so far away, and what a relief it would be not to have to see him in the near future. Maybe they would stay long enough for her to plant her walnut in the garden. She determined to ask Mr. Lewin, or perhaps even Mr. Hocking, if they visited Kew Gardens in the spring, when would be the best time to transfer her plant from the flowerpot to its proper home in London soil.
Chapter Twelve
In which Lizzie has a sleepless night
Christmas was Lizzie’s favourite time of the year. Mr. Dickens’s story called A Christmas Carol was, she considered, a very fine book indeed, with its ghosts and the best ending of any story she had ever read. As the festival approached, she grew more and more excited. All over the house, everyone was making preparations. Cook and Elsie had a huge goose, plucked and drawn and ready to stuff, lying on the wooden table in the kitchen; there was a fat plum pudding already made and waiting to be heated for the Christmas dinner. Grandmama herself had supervised the roasting of a gigantic side of ham, making sure that it was well-studded with cloves and basted with a spicy mixture of cinnamon, nutmeg and honey.
Uncle Percy and Uncle William had brought in a young spruce tree and installed it in the drawing room in a bucket which would, in the fullness of time, be covered up with a strip of wallpaper striped in red and gold.
“We’ll be as grand as they are at Windsor Castle,” said Uncle Percy, “with a tree that Prince Albert himself might well envy.”
“May we help to decorate it, Papa?” asked Lucy. “Please say we may!”
“Only if you let Clara and Lizzie keep an eye on you to make sure that you don’t eat all the gingerbread as you put it up. And the candles, of course, will be lit only when there are adults present. But yes, it will be a fine sight, I’m quite sure.”
Lucy insisted on bringing Mrs. Tibbs the cat upstairs to see the ribbons and the pretty baubles Aunt Victoria had bought to make the tree beautiful, but Mrs. Tibbs was far more interested in the tempting smells wafting
up from the kitchen and ran downstairs to where Cook and Elsie, in the indulgent spirit of the season, would allow her to eat the meaty scraps that had fallen onto the floor.
On Christmas morning, there were presents of fruit and nuts for all the children. Hugh and Lizzie each received a fine wooden pencil case; Clara was given some pretty lace-edged handkerchiefs and Lucy a kaleidoscope.
Christmas dinner was a happy occasion. Lizzie was wearing her fine new dress. The goose was roasted to perfection; the pudding was delicious and, by the end of the meal, everyone felt as though they never wished to eat another morsel ever again.
Cecily was sitting very upright in her chair and looking rather pale.
“Are you quite well, dear?” Grandmama asked, peering at Cecily through her spectacles.
“Yes, thank you. I believe I’ve eaten too much. A slight discomfort perhaps. It will soon pass. Indigestion, I suppose.”
“Do you wish to withdraw?” Aunt Victoria asked.
“No, no,” said Cecily and she tried to smile, but Lizzie thought that her mother didn’t look quite herself.
“Let us raise our glasses,” said Uncle Percy, just as Lizzie was wondering when they might leave the table. She wanted nothing more than to sit in the schoolroom and read quietly after all the rich food she had eaten. She had even been allowed to take a little wine with her meal, in honour of the occasion. Hugh and Lucy were also looking full and red-faced and her mama, she could see, would have loved nothing better than to lie down in her bedroom. Still, Uncle Percy insisted on a toast. He raised his wineglass and said, “Health and happiness to us all. God bless us, every one!”
He winked at Lizzie, who recognized the quotation from A Christmas Carol and smiled back at her uncle. By the time the children were allowed to leave the table, night had fallen.
“Look!” said Hugh, when they were in the schoolroom. He had his nose pressed up against the window. “It’s snowing.”
“How lovely!” said Lucy. “Maybe tomorrow we’ll be able to make a snowman in the garden.”
Lizzie passed a very restless night. Perhaps, she thought, as she twisted and turned between sleep and wakefulness, I ate too much and my stomach has been disturbed. I’m not used to such rich meat, and then there was the wine. Am I asleep? As she asked herself this question, she felt herself falling and falling and realized, even while she was dreaming, that she was, indeed, in a dream. There was banging and shouting somewhere far away and a voice saying, “Run! Be quick about it!” But no one she could see was running anywhere and the dream turned into one where she and Hugh were at Kew again, and the plants were growing all over the glasshouse like the roses around Sleeping Beauty’s castle. Then the dream ended and Lizzie knew nothing further, till she heard Clara speaking quietly into her ear, and shaking her gently by the shoulder.
“Lizzie?” Clara said. “Lizzie, wake up. Can you hear something?”
Lizzie opened her eyes and saw that her cousin was standing beside her bed, with a shawl over her nightdress to protect her from the cold.
“Is it morning yet? It’s still dark…” Lizzie said, drowsily.
“No, but listen. Can’t you hear it?”
“I don’t know what I’m listening for.”
“I’m sure I heard a baby crying. I can’t hear it now, but it woke me. Something woke me.”
Clara gasped suddenly and added, “Your mama…it must be your mama. Perhaps she has given birth… But how is that possible? She was sitting at the dining table with us no more than a few hours ago. Surely we would have heard some comings and goings? Oh, but now I recall. Your mama thought she had indigestion during dinner. I suppose that must have been the beginning of her labour pains. Grandmama must have called the midwife, don’t you think? Oh, Lizzie! We must go and have a look.”
Lizzie got out of bed and found her slippers and dressing gown. She went to the door, which Clara had already opened. Sure enough, there were lights burning everywhere and Grandmama was standing outside Cecily’s bedroom with her hair uncharacteristically in disarray. She had her sleeves rolled up and was wearing an apron over her gown.
“Grandmama, we heard a baby crying. Is it…?”
“Indeed it is!” said Grandmama. She came up to Lizzie and kissed her heartily. “You have a little brother, my dear. He gave no trouble being born; no trouble to speak of. Slipped out as though he couldn’t wait to come into this world, even though we were not expecting him for a few weeks yet. We’ve washed him and your mother has fed him and she’s resting now, but you may put your head around the door and peep at the little darling.”
Clara burst out, “Oh, why didn’t you call on me to help, Grandmama? I would have wanted to assist. You know how I love babies. And I’ve told you about my desire to be a nurse. This would have been a perfect opportunity for me to learn about childbirth.”
“A baby being born is more than a lesson in nursing skills,” said Grandmama, rather sharply. She went on a little more gently. “To tell the truth, dear, there wasn’t time. Cecily went into labour shortly after you’d all gone to bed, and Uncle William ran down the road to fetch the midwife. I was in attendance; Cook and Elsie helped with the heating of the water. Everything was over before you could turn round. You will have plenty of opportunity to help from now on, you may be sure. Babies create a tremendous amount of work for everyone.”
Lizzie opened the door of the room that had lately been her and Lucy’s. She, too, was angry at herself for sleeping through her brother’s arrival in the world. All the noises and shoutings she had thought she was hearing in her dreams must have been real. The curtains were still drawn and the bedroom was almost completely dark. In the light from the landing, Lizzie could make out a cradle, next to the bed.
“Mama?” she whispered. “Mama, are you awake?”
“Yes, Lizzie. Come and see.”
Lizzie tiptoed to the bed and flung her arms around her mother’s neck.
“Oh, Mama, Mama, are you well? I wish I’d woken up and then I’d have been here to help you.”
Cecily laughed. “I needed very little help, I’m happy to say. You took your time being born but your brother was in a hurry to arrive.”
“May I look at him, Mama?”
“Of course. He’s sleeping soundly now.”
Lizzie thought that she had never seen anything half as beautiful as her baby brother. His little head was covered in soft, dark down and his tiny, tiny fingers were curled around the satin ribbon that bound the edge of his blanket.
“What’s his name to be, Mama? What are we going to call him?”
“I have decided on John, after your papa, and William after your uncle. John William.”
“Johnny,” said Lizzie. “My brother Johnny. How I love him already!”
“I want you to do me a favour, Lizzie.”
“Anything, Mama. I will do anything.”
“Then please will you write to Eli? Tell him about the birth and that I am well and will write presently. Letters take a few weeks to reach him in Africa, but he must know as soon as possible. After all, Johnny is his son too. Tell him about his child, and how beautiful he is.”
“Of course I will, Mama,” said Lizzie. She did not look forward to the task, but at least she would know what to say, and the letter did not have to be very long, after all. “I will write it this afternoon and show it to you before it’s posted.”
“Thank you, my dear. I can see how your eyes keep going back to the baby. He is handsome, is he not? I’m sure he will love you, his big sister, above everyone else.”
Chapter Thirteen
In which the Frazer family learns to live with an infant
On the afternoon of Boxing Day, the day that Johnny was born, Lizzie and Hugh and Lucy had gone out into the garden and swept up all the snow they could find to make a small snowman. Lucy had wanted the snowman to be a snow baby, but that was judged too difficult a task by Hugh and Lizzie and the ensuing argument had driven all three children indoors after a
while. They hadn’t returned to their half-made creature, and when the thaw came, it melted into the grass and was gone.
Since that day, three weeks had passed and the weather was dull and rainy. Lizzie had almost decided that her walnut was dead. Surely it ought to have appeared by now? All over the garden, snowdrops were showing their bright flowers in the grass and yet her walnut refused to grow at all. She felt very disappointed.
“Who would have thought such a tiny scrap of a child could turn a whole household upside down in less than a month?” said Grandmama, dandling little Johnny on her knee. Lizzie watched the two of them and thought that the time had flown by more quickly than she could have imagined.
The baby was swaddled in a cloth and had just been fed by his mama. Now he was in the morning room, being admired by everyone. Lucy treated him as an honorary pet, though she often remarked that he was not as entertaining as Mrs. Tibbs. “He doesn’t do anything,” she said. “When he is fed, he goes to sleep and when he is hungry, he cries and cries and we all have to take turns to walk him along in his perambulator or rock him in the cradle. I hope he will become more interesting as he grows older.” She did not sound optimistic.
“Young animals,” said Hugh, “are much better at getting on in the world. Young cats or dogs can walk about almost as soon as they’re born and they don’t seem to need half the care and attention that human babies do. I wonder why that is. And feeding and sleeping are such a problem. Have you ever heard of a kitten who can’t sleep?”
“I’m glad to say that Johnny is a good sleeper for the most part. Much better than you were, Hugh.” Grandmama smiled at her eldest grandson. “I can recall you at this age, you know. I can even recall your papa when he was newborn.”
Lucy laughed. “How funny to think of Papa in a swaddling cloth! I cannot imagine it.”
“Nevertheless, he was. And so were you, Miss Lucy. You were the most troublesome baby I ever knew and hardly allowed your poor mother a single undisturbed night.”