‘Have you been paying into the club like I told you?’
‘I paid what I could, when I could. It’s all used up.’
‘What d’you mean, it’s all used up?’
‘Our credit. We’ve none left.’
‘Surely you could manage a penny a week? Mam needs a doctor.’
Arnie gazed upon his daughter with bleak eyes and Lily felt sick, guessing what was to come. ‘I’ve not even a penny to buy a twist of tea. I’ve been laid off from the boatyard. Boss says I’m never there when he needs me. Allus out on t’fishing or taking care of Hannah.’ He sat down like a man exhausted, gazing up at the ceiling as if he could see his wife through it. ‘I don’t know what else to do, our Lily. I’m at me wit’s end. I love yer mam, you know I do. I don’t seem to have the energy to go on wi’out her.’
‘Oh, Dad.’ She went to him and held him close while he sobbed on to her shoulder. It was the most painful experience of her life. How could her father have come to this? Arnie Thorpe was strong, always had been. A good and kindly man. And here he was, a pitiful wreck, his heart broken with grief. ‘Have you enquired about the sanatorium?’ She felt his body stiffen.
‘She’ll die if she goes there.’
Lily knew her mother would die if she didn’t go, but couldn’t find it in her heart to say so.
‘No, she won’t. She’d get the care she needs. I’ll see what I can find out.’ Again she held her father close, fighting the tears blocking her own throat. It wouldn’t do for them both to break down. ‘If The Cobbles wasn’t such a filthy place, happen fewer people would get consumption. And we know who to blame for that, now don’t we?’
‘Aw, Lily, don’t start on that caper now,’ Arnie chided, blowing his nose and trying to regain his composure. ‘There’s naught we can do.’
Oh, but there should be, she thought.
Lily did the best she could to make Hannah comfortable, though she managed little of the egg custard, then brewed Arnie a mug of sweet tea and cuddled her distressed sisters, offering what advice and comfort she could.
‘I’ll have to go. I’ve me own family to see to.’
Emma’s face was pinched and frightened. She it was who carried the burden of caring for Hannah, taking more time off school than she should. ‘You’ll come tomorrow as usual, Lily?’
‘Course I will. Do I ever miss? I’ll bring you summat good to eat.’ How she would manage to keep such a reckless promise Lily couldn’t at the moment imagine. But she meant to, come what may.
‘Will you fetch me a bull’s eye, our Lily?’
‘I will, Kitty. If I have to catch the animal meself.’
Kitty giggled. ‘I meant a toffee ball.’
‘Oh!’ Lily pretended surprise. ‘That’s different. We’ll have to see if I’m passing Mrs Robbins’s shop then, won’t we?’
‘You pass it every day.’
‘Aye, usually with an empty pocket. Still, we’ll see what tomorrow brings. Now keep your peckers up, the lot of you. You do Mam no good pulling long faces.’
But as she hurried away, Lily’s own heart was heavy. Hannah had devoted her life to caring for her family. Nothing had ever been too good for them. Not for her children the bad teeth and bare feet so common among the chronically poor. She’d toiled to provide the best food she could manage, even if it was too often only stinking fish. There was no better food for the brain, she’d told them.
The rain started again as Lily strode down Carter Street. She pulled the sacking close about her neck, less vigour than usual in her stride. Her body felt bone weary, a hundred years old.
As she turned the corner into Mallard Street, she was surprised to see a group of men outside her own cottage, then recognised one of them. Nathan Monroe. What was he up to?
When Lily reached the men and took in what had happened, the smashed window with glass everywhere, rain pouring in all over her table top, Amy screaming like a banshee, life was suddenly too much. A bolt of fury shot through her and she lashed out at Nathan Monroe without stopping to think.
‘What the bleedin’ hell have you done now, you wicked bully?’ Her arms flailed, hands slapping whatever bare flesh she could reach while Nathan defended himself as best he could. Then hands were gripping her, Nathan’s hands, hard on her arms, and Bertie’s voice high with panic.
‘Leave him be, Lily. He’s helping, not attacking us.’
But instead of simply stopping, she broke down in tears, and for a while it seemed as if she would never stop.
When Lily heard the whole sorry story she was forced to offer an apology to Nathan, for all she did so with bad grace. In her eyes he would never be anything but trouble. Lily hated everything about him: his broad handsome face, untidy brown hair and fierce brows. And the deep grooves etched between nose and wide mouth, even if that mouth did smile at her with disturbing good humour whenever she happened to glance his way. Most of all she hated his brooding blue eyes, which she didn’t care even to think about.
‘Bertie was managing to stand up for himself very well, as a matter of fact,’ Nathan was saying. ‘But he was a touch outnumbered.’
‘Though not outclassed. What a lark!’ Bertie agreed with a grin. ‘The way you ploughed into them, tossing them aside like bobbins! And I bloodied at least one nose, I can tell you. Rather like being back at school.’
Lily stared at her young husband and wondered if he’d the least idea what he was saying. Those youths, unlike his public school chums, would have thought nothing of beating him to a pulp. For that reason alone she should be grateful to Nathan Monroe for intervening. ‘What was it all about, anyroad?’
‘I don’t think they cared for my new hat,’ Bertie remarked, with his usual air of unconcern.
‘Hat? What new hat?’
He held up the battered item. ‘No good now, old thing. Have to chuck it.’
For a whole half minute Lily couldn’t speak. Then she flew to the cupboard and pulled out the battered tea caddy where she hid her savings. She gave it a quick rattle and breathed a sigh of relief.
Utterly shocked, he said, ‘I wouldn’t take your money, Lily,’ while Nathan studiously kept a blank face. A fact which infuriated Lily all the more.
‘How did you pay for it then?’
‘On Mama’s account, old thing. She’ll never notice. Had to have one. Winter coming and all that.’
Lily stared helplessly at him, letting the anger drain from her body. What was the use? Their child needed food in her belly. Rent had to be paid. Her own mother might die of consumption but Bertie bought a new hat. The right clothes for the right occasion was too much a part of his life-style for him ever to understand hers. It was a wonder he didn’t still change for dinner.
Lily slapped jam on a few thin slices of bread and made a great show of carefully scraping off the excess, while grudgingly issuing an invitation for Nathan to stay to tea, fully expecting him to refuse.
‘Glad to,’ he said, lifting the soup pan on to the hob when he saw it was too heavy for her to manage. ‘I could do with a bite after this afternoon’s adventures.’ The two men exchanged a look of silent agreement that no mention should be made of the whisky drinking session.
Lily doled out sparse portions of hot soup, wanting to save some for her family the next day, as promised. She followed it with the jam and bread and a mug of tea each. The meal may have been poor, but while Lily sat silent was nonetheless merry so far as the two men were concerned, as they recounted the joys of the afternoon.
‘Did you see that rascal’s face when you popped him one?’ Bertie chortled. ‘He wondered where on earth you’d sprung from.’
‘You nearly popped one on me,’ Nathan laughed, and his descriptions became so wildly extravagant and yet so sharply funny that even Lily found herself smiling, eyes dancing, momentarily catching Nathan’s laughing glance and moving as quickly away again.
‘Have you had enough?’ she asked at last, taking away his plate.
‘The soup was t
asty. Thanks.’ She could tell by the doubt in his voice that the food fell short of what he was used to. He was no doubt still hungry.
‘D’you have much trouble getting meat?’ he casually enquired, and while Lily bridled with indignation at the implied criticism, Bertie sighed and happily closed his eyes, content before the warm fire.
‘We get by,’ was all she was prepared to admit. Not that she could remember the last time she’d tasted a bit of pork, or even liver. ‘Bertie shot us a rabbit the other week, didn’t you?’ She forbore to mention that there’d been little meat left on it, since he’d blasted most of it away.
‘I could get you a pig’s head. Make lovely brawn with that.’
Lily stiffened, even as her mouth watered. ‘We need no charity, thanks very much. We can manage well enough on us own.’
‘Sometimes a bit of venison comes my way.’
‘I’m sure it does,’ she responded, a dryness to her tone which left them all in no doubt how she believed he came by it.
A short silence fell and every part of Lily seemed to prickle with a new awareness. Why did he watch her so closely? Why did Nathan Monroe go to so much trouble to help Bertie? They weren’t in the least bit alike. They came from quite opposite backgrounds, a world apart in fact. Yet they chattered away like old friends.
Silence fell, disturbed only by the shifting of hot ashes in the grate and Bertie’s gentle snores. Why did Nathan linger? Why didn’t he have the grace to offer his thanks and go?
Attempting to ignore him, Lily turned her attention to sewing buttons on one of Bertie’s shirts, but couldn’t resist surreptitiously studying Nathan from beneath her lashes. He’d bought a new coat by the look of it. Navy blue, in a fine cloth. And he’d shaved. Looked almost respectable for once, despite his hair being as wild as ever and far too long. Lily recalled Rose’s words and almost smiled, forced to concede that no one could deny his good looks. To her horror she found his blue eyes resting upon her, studying her with amused interest. She drove her needle into a finger and, giving a little yelp, jumped to her feet, blood spurting on to the clean shirt.
‘You’ve hurt yourself.’ He leaned towards her and Lily flinched quickly away, wrapping the finger in her pinny.
‘It’s nothing. I’m tired, that’s all. I’m off to bed now, Bertie. It’s been a day and a half.’ She made no mention of her visit to Hannah, not feeling able to cope with his sympathy. Yet now she glared at her husband, wanting him to ask, needing his interest and willing him to look up and say he’d come to bed too. Then this odious man would be forced to leave. But Bertie slept blissfully on, tired as a result of all the unusual excitement. As Lily went to the door at the foot of the stairs, Nathan followed her.
‘I’ve no wish to offend, Lily. I thought you’d mebbe like a bit of something tasty for your mam. I know she’s ill.’
He seemed even bigger close to, his head almost touching the low ceiling. Tight-faced, Lily took a step back, unwilling to meet his gaze again, and found herself up against the door post. She couldn’t quite co-ordinate her hands to do her bidding and open the door. Hadn’t it always been so when he was around? Hadn’t he always taken pleasure in making her tremble with nerves? Hovering so close to her she could smell the musky maleness of him, see every hair on the back of the hand which rested on the door jamb beside her. Why did he put on this show of understanding? Why did he pretend to care, when quite clearly he wanted only to frighten and humiliate her?
‘Bertie can provide whatever we need,’ she sharply informed her. It was a bare-faced lie and they both knew it.
‘The offer stands if you change your mind.’ Then he lifted his hand and let the back of his fingers drift lightly over her cheek. Lily recoiled as if he’d scalded her.
‘I’ve told you, we can manage. Thanks all the same.’ She felt pride in the firmness of her voice and, stiff-backed, pulled open the door and went upstairs to bed. But unfortunately not to sleep. From below drifted the low hum of voices, interspersed with soft laughter.
Long after Bertie had slipped into bed, quietly, so as not to disturb her, Lily still gazed wide-eyed into the darkness, sleep held at bay by the memory of a smile, by a touch as smooth as silk and the fact that her body seemed to hum with newly awakened desire for a man who was not her husband. A man whom she claimed to despise.
Bertie did not agree with Lily’s poor opinion of Nathan Monroe. The two became such fast friends they were rarely seen apart. It riled her to watch the friendship develop yet know herself powerless to prevent it. Too often when she came home from work she would find them both sitting at the table, playing dominoes or cards, or simply chatting and laughing. Or the pair of them would go off some place, not telling her where. What they were up to half the time Lily did not care to consider. Was Nathan teaching Bertie his wicked ways? she worried, alarmed and frustrated.
And if a part of her felt jealous of the new friendship, or trembled a little when Nathan brushed by or even glanced in her direction, not for a moment would she acknowledge it. She had her family, and her lovely Amy. Nathan Monroe was trouble. The last thing she needed was to become involved with such a man.
Yet despite her best efforts he occupied Lily’s thoughts waking and sleeping. Her skin yearned to feel again the promise of his caress, her eyes followed his every move. She knew he was aware of her interest, yet was quite unable to prevent herself. Knowledge of his power over her was clear in the amused light in his eyes, the twist of his mouth. He held her spellbound, like a mouse facing a snake. Yet much as Lily longed to force Bertie to banish him from their home, she didn’t have the energy to protest.
Her only salvation was to fill her days with work. To become so tired she did not have the energy to think. With so many people to care for, so many people depending on her, money became a constant worry.
Lily was determined Amy shouldn’t suffer or be deprived of anything she needed. The child would soon be needing shoes. Her baby toes were kept warm in knitted bootees, but in a few months Lily knew she would be walking, and by next winter would need something far more substantial. She was growing at a rapid rate.
‘She’s a credit to you,’ Rose would say as she jiggled the infant on her lap. ‘So she should be, the way you coddle the little blighter.’
Lily half starved herself in order to buy fresh vegetables for the child. Hannah had passed on many of Kitty’s old clothes, but Lily longed to make Amy something new, something of her own, that no other child had worn.
Each week she’d put aside what she could to that end. A farthing here, a halfpenny there. Little enough, but over the months she had meant it to accumulate enough to enable her to buy proper shoes, and material which she could sew into a new frock and coat and bonnet. Hand-me-down rags weren’t good enough for her child. Not for Bertie’s lovely daughter.
The money was there in the tea caddy, safe, untouched even by Bertie’s extravagance. Now she weighed these plans against the reality of her mother’s illness. What price a child’s pair of shoes against a woman’s life, a family’s needs?
Facing up to reality, Lily took the few coppers she’d managed to save thus far and bought more eggs and milk for her mother. She’d make Amy a little custard of her own, as a treat. There were months yet before the shoes would be needed.
She also bought liver and bacon and made both families a delicious and tasty meal for once. With the last penny she bought a fresh bottle of medicine from the herbalist. It contained tincture of opium which he assured her would ease the spasms. The sacrifice was worth it for it did indeed make Hannah better. The coughing eased and her mother got some rest at last.
And Kitty got her bull’s eye.
But it wasn’t enough. Days later the bleeding grew frighteningly worse. Arnie pawned the kitchen table, two of their three chairs which he’d carved himself, and the clock he’d bought Hannah on their wedding day. Then he brought the doctor. Thus Hannah was taken at last to the sanatorium.
Chapter Nine
; Purple dusk was darkening to blue-grey as Nathan and Bertie pushed off from the small jetty. Sharp spires of spruce and larch stood sentinel against the fading light, and beyond lay the backdrop of bronzed hills that circled the lake, which all too soon would melt into a forbidding black. There was no sound but the crunch of shingle as the boat slipped into the water, the oars shifting in the rowlocks, and a faint swish as they dipped deep.
Midnight was the best time for trout, Nathan explained, and just before dawn, when the fish come up to feed. ‘I know of holes and haunts where the trout lie between the islands, good for night-trolling.’ He hoped Bertie would keep quiet. He couldn’t do with a fisherman who prattled. ‘It’s important we don’t frighten away all the fish,’ he warned.
‘Absolutely.’
Bertie was keen to prove his worth. Lily’s scathing tones when he’d told her his plan still rankled. She’d looked at him as if he were a complete idiot.
‘Fishing? Why fishing, for heaven’s sake? It’s a dying trade on this lake. You won’t make any money out of it. Dad makes little enough.’
‘Nathan says he knows a good place. You could sell them on the stall.’ He was beaming at her like a small boy, eager to please.
Lily had lifted her eyes to the ceiling and sighed. She very nearly asked him why he didn’t go out with her father, if he was so keen. But Arnie was working all hours on odd jobs, struggling to recoup his possessions - in between visiting Hannah at the sanatorium, so had no time for the idle fancies of his daft son-in-law.
‘I want to prove that I’m not the toffee-nosed idiot he thinks me, Lily. At least fishing is something I’ve tried before, as a boy.’
‘Hardly the same.’
‘Nathan says it’s a start.’
She’d lost her temper then, shouting at him that all she ever heard these days was Nathan this, Nathan that. Couldn’t he find other friends besides Nathan? Bertie couldn’t understand why she hated the man so much.
‘I’ll make my own sandwiches, clean my own boots. I just want you to be proud of me, Lily. I have the right clothes already.’
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