Lakeland Lily

by Freda Lightfoot

  Selene stood on the doorstep, grim-faced, while all the ladies climbed aboard their gigs. George directed the resultant traffic jam into some order along the drive, and the clip-clop of horses’ hooves, muffled by sacking wraps to prevent them slithering about on the ice, died slowly away. Her last thought before preparing herself to face Margot’s usual post-mortem on the afternoon was that if money came so easily to Nathan Monroe, she could only hope that he would just as easily lose it.

  Margot, however, at that precise moment, had other matters on her mind. Not wishing to brave the icy blast of the chill outdoors, she had sunk upon her favourite window seat to watch the departure of her guests through the window. From here she could also see the entire frozen expanse of the lake.

  Though she could not with certainty make out the identity of the two figures, her mother’s instinct told her that one of them must be Bertie. Who else but her own beloved son could skate so well, or have the nerve to take part in such a reckless act? Nor did she need to puzzle over why he was on the ice, risking life and limb in that crazy fashion, or who was to blame for his being there.

  She saw the two figures collide and instantly let out a howl which grew in volume as she ran out into the snow until it was a full-blooded scream for George, for Betty, for Selene - and in particular, at that dreaded moment of possible loss, for Edward.

  They were all in the kitchen, Betty and Lily bustling about with hot kettles, whisky and fragrant fresh coffee while the two men sat swathed in blankets and towels.

  ‘I can’t believe you could be so stupid,’ Margot was saying, in her fiercest, no-nonsense voice. ‘What were you thinking of to permit them to be so foolish? Bertie might well have been killed out there.’

  It was, of course, to Lily that she directed this furious accusation. Yet Lily made no move to defend herself against Margot’s rage. She didn’t have the strength, for she too had never felt so angry in all her life. It was the only way to express intense relief.

  ‘Dash it, we weren’t killed, Mama. We’re fine and dandy. Anyway, that’s what life’s all about, ain’t it, Nathan, old chap? Risk. Ah, coffee. You’re an angel, Betty. Sorry, even my gaspers are soaking wet.’

  Lily found her voice at last. ‘For goodness’ sake, Bertie, what do a few cigarettes matter? Margot is right, you could’ve lost your lives out there. Nathan nearly did.’

  Bertie looked at her, an oddly mournful expression on his boyish face. ‘I wouldn’t have let him drown, Lily. I saved him, didn’t I?’ She half expected him to add, ‘for you’, and was grateful that he didn’t. Instead he turned to Nathan with a grin. ‘We’re even now, old chap, eh?’

  Lily paused in shaking mustard powder into two deep bowls of hot water. ‘Even? What d’you mean, even? This hasn’t happened before, has it?’

  ‘Dear heaven,’ said Margot, collapsing into a chair and sending Betty scurrying for smelling salts for the second time in months. ‘He means,’ Nathan quietly explained, ‘that I saved him from drowning when we were fishing that time.’

  ‘That’s right.’ Bertie grinned. ‘What a lark that was. One minute I was catching a whopper, the next I was in the drink. Would have copped it if it hadn’t been for Nathan’s quick action in pulling me out. So you see, Lily, old thing, we know how to look after each other.’

  She looked from one to other of them and wondered, just for a fleeting second, if that were true. But they both looked so innocent it must be. Quite incomprehensible, the pair of them.

  Lily was haunted by the incident. She had to admit that Margot was right for once. One of them could have died out there, and the fault would have been entirely hers. But because of Bertie’s precarious state of health, and not least her own sense of guilt, she made no further comment upon the subject. They understood each other perfectly. Life would go on as usual.

  She would concentrate on being a good and faithful wife to Bertie, even if he hadn’t behaved quite as a good and faithful husband himself. To cheat on her with Rose was bad enough, and then with Nan as well was appalling. She couldn’t bear to imagine what he’d got up to in London during all those long months after the war. Nor would she ever ask. Lily supposed she should make allowances. As Nathan said, he’d come home alive and in one piece.

  Having made up her mind to stick by Bertie, it seemed imperative that Nathan should stay away. The last thing she needed was for him and Bertie to take up their old friendship. She wrote him a brief but painfully clear note.

  It was obligingly delivered by the faithful Betty who carefully managed to cloak her avid curiosity.

  She handed the letter to a grim-faced Nathan and scurried quickly away, not wanting to answer any questions. The affair was obviously over.

  The ice finally melted and a cold winter passed into a cool spring. Saffron and gold leaves hung like flecks of fire on the black claws of still-bare trees. But elsewhere pink buds were appearing on the horse chestnuts. Bright pussy willow starred the curving bays and wooded inlets. Soon the ragged grasses on the steep hillsides would blaze with golden gorse. Change was in the air.

  One day the sun would shine warmly, the next a bitter wind would blow. Rather in tune with Lily’s emotions.

  Little had changed in her marriage. Bertie still occupied the small dressing room, for which she was truly grateful. They continued to live their separate lives while keeping up the facade of a happy married life.

  Lily threw herself into her work, anxious to keep her mind occupied rather than lingering over what might have been. Even so her eyes kept searching the horizon for any sight of Nathan, her ears constantly attuned for the sound of his voice reverberating over the water when he was out in one of his steamers. But he kept away, as she had requested.

  In other ways, at least, life was improving. Money was easier, debts were slowly being settled, one by one, and suppliers were again happy to attend Barwick House. But by the end of that second summer of her operation, Lily still felt far from secure. Another long winter lay ahead which would prove a great strain on their savings with no money coming in.

  She spoke about this problem to Ferryman Bob. ‘What next, Bob? The Faith is doing well enough, but I’m not sure how much longer we can cope.’

  To Ferryman Bob the answer seemed obvious. ‘Thee needs another boat, Lily.’

  ‘I suppose I do, but where from?’ And then she remembered the talks she had enjoyed with Edward. ‘Kaspar!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Kaspar. That was the name of Edward’s freight boat. The one he scuttled.’

  ‘A cargo boat won’t make any money on the lake these days. The roads are getting better all the time and folk use cars and trucks and lorries now. Even the Raven on Windermere is coming to the end of her working life.’

  A spark of unexpected excitement lit within her. ‘But she was a fine boat! Edward said so. His treasure, he called her. She could be restored, altered in some way, perhaps used for some other purpose. Couldn’t we find her and bring her up?’

  He looked stunned. ‘By heck, that sounds like a tall order.’

  ‘But not impossible?’

  Bob grinned. ‘Naught’s impossible, isn’t that what they say? It just takes a bit longer.’

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  1921

  It took the best part of two months. They first had to find where the Kaspar had settled, fortunately in a reasonably shallow part of the lake since Edward hadn’t the heart to scuttle her in deep water. She lay deep in mud, the water a good foot above the cabin roof and they set about pulling her out. Half a dozen men were engaged to carry out the work, standing in six or seven feet of water, soaking wet and freezing cold despite their gum-boots and waterproofs.

  ‘She’s not going to be easy to lift,’ Ferryman Bob said, shaking his head.

  ‘But you promised we could do it,’ Lily reminded him.

  The boat had first to be sealed with steel plating and clay, then the sludge which had collected inside was pumped out by hand: a long and tedious ta
sk. To Lily, standing beside them in the glutinous mud and silt, it seemed little short of a miracle. As the boat was relieved of its burden it began, very gently at first, to rise. The men slid ropes underneath the keel and hauled on them until she finally floated to the surface, spewing out a pound or two of trout and char as she came.

  Everyone was laughing and kissing and whooping with joy.

  It was the end of October. All their grim and filthy work had been rewarded at last. The boat was caked with mud and weed, filthy beyond comprehension, gunwales awash, and already Lily was worrying over whether the timbers would hold, and whether she could afford the enormous cost required to restore her.

  She was much bigger than Lily had expected. Bob measured her length at sixty-five feet, and nearly twelve in the beam. Some of her ribs were soft but most were reasonably sound. The funnel from the fire box was missing, and the boiler looked to be in a sorry state. They bailed her out, scrubbed and hosed her down, and by the time she was hauled on to dry land, Lily almost despaired at the amount of work that still lay ahead.

  ‘Do you reckon my father would help?’ she asked Ferryman Bob as they sat on the small jetty, viewing their handiwork. They were eating their sandwiches and taking a welcome breather.

  He shook his head, eyes sad. ‘I’ve already asked him. When I took round that bit o’ fudge.’

  Lily’s heart clenched. ‘What did he say?’

  ‘I don’t recall exactly.’

  ‘Yes, you do.’

  The old man looked embarrassed but Lily insisted, finally gave in. ‘If you must know, he said he had no daughter by that name.’

  The sandwich dropped from her fingers. Never, in all her life, had she imagined being entirely cast adrift by her own family. ‘I see.’ Which of course she did. Would they believe her if she now told them she’d given up Nathan for good? Only was it even true? Did she still privately hope for her marriage to fail so she could rush back into his arms? Wasn’t that exactly what she would do right now if she didn’t feel so desperately sorry for Bertie?

  The engine was taken to pieces and cleaned. The cylinder heads were taken off and found to be good, with remarkably little sign of rust, as were the piston rings. Some parts were missing or broken and local craftsmen had to be found to mend them or fashion new. Often these were men who worked at the quarry and knew about steam engines. Kaspar’s had been well greased before she sank so were soon in fine fettle again. But it all took time and Lily fretted that the boat wouldn’t be ready for the start of the next season in May.

  The boiler was sent away to be overhauled and strengthened, and while Ferryman Bob and George worked hard on the engine, Lily scrubbed and scoured and cleaned with Thomas alongside her. The little boy loved every minute of it since it meant he could get dirty without being scolded. With the boat chocked up on wedges and bogeys, it was possible to reach every part of her hull. Lily and George scraped her clean, then coated her with oils and preservatives. This treatment had to be repeated at two-weekly intervals throughout the winter, letting it soak deep into the timbers to do its work. In the spring they would paint her, good as new.

  ‘She looks better already,’ Lily announced with pride.

  ‘She’ll need to dry out slow like. You can’t rush a job like this,’ Ferryman Bob warned. `’But she’s a fine ship, pine on oak. She’ll do.’

  Lily became obsessed. She spent every hour she could on the boat. She carefully carried away any loose pieces of timber or fragments from the cabin or deck and laid them out in Edward’s old boathouse to treat them there. Putting the jigsaw back together would, she reckoned, be something of a nightmare.

  In addition she’d require a complete refit with a smart saloon if she was to carry passengers. Who could do that for her? And how much would it all cost?

  Lily gathered all her courage and went to call on her father.

  Arnie was not at home and Lily was ashamed to feel instant relief. Hannah at least welcomed her, made a jam sandwich for her grandson and gave him a bag of buttons to play with. She made no comment when Lily attempted to explain, without giving details of any kind, or naming any names, that she and Bertie had sorted things out and matters were improving between them.

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Hannah had her arms wrapped about herself in that familiar disapproving manner.

  Lily hurried on to outline her plans for restoring the boat. ‘I need a saloon, Mam, with walnut panelling, plush seats, the lot. Only I haven’t got much money. I thought Dad might help.’

  ‘You must’ve been busy.’

  ‘Yes.’ She was exhausted. Lily slept the sleep of the dead each night, which was a blessing in itself, but where she would find the energy to complete her task, she really couldn’t imagine.

  ‘I wouldn’t recommend you spend more time on them boats than you do with Bertie, in view of your difficulties,’ Hannah warned. ‘Could be a bad mistake.’

  ‘We need to make money.’

  ‘That’s for your husband to do, surely?’

  Lily was silent. She’d entirely failed to persuade Bertie to help. He refused all her entreaties on this matter. Instead he’d spent the winter back in his old ways of lazing about and drinking too much.

  ‘I thought you loved boats,’ she’d said, to no avail. Lily even found herself extolling the benefits of fresh air and exercise until he told her sharply that she was not his nurse and he’d do as he pleased. So she gave up.

  Lily was beginning to wonder if perhaps Edward had been right to have so little faith in his son - a bleak thought. Bertie’s mood swings continued to be difficult. Now she called to Thomas, who’d been investigating the glories of the under-stairs cupboard, and said her goodbyes.

  ‘Ask Dad to come over, will you? I really could do with his help.’

  ‘I’ll speak to him, but I can’t promise aught.’

  Lily was far too tired to quarrel with anyone. She waited two weeks then reluctantly swallowed the last of her pride and stood before her mother-in-law, begging for a loan. She asked if perhaps there might be something in the overstuffed house which Margot could sell to fund the enterprise, promising a proper rate of interest in return. There was outrage, of course, at the very suggestion, denial there was anything of real value, but when Lily pointed out that she would then no longer be in a position to finance Margot’s little treats and new frocks, a miraculous change of heart took place. Two Chinese vases and a few Dresden pieces were sold for a good price.

  Lily found a carpenter to make the saloon and do the refit. It wouldn’t be as good a job as Arnie would have done, and no doubt would cost twice as much, but what else could she do? If Bertie wouldn’t help her, if her own father wouldn’t help her, there was an end of the matter.

  The new saloon was in the best traditional style with swagged silk curtains, plush seats and crimson carpets. A fringed canopy was erected on deck, beneath which a wind-up gramophone reposed on a table beside comfortable basket chairs, in readiness for picnics and dance parties. The paintwork shone in brilliant white with maroon trim, brass fittings and walnut panelling were polished to perfection.

  ‘Isn’t she beautiful?’ Lily smoothed her hands over the cool wood, then put them to her own flushed cheeks, as proud as if she’d just given birth.

  ‘Aye, she’s right bonny,’ Ferryman Bob agreed, searching frantically for a cigarette in the folds of his cap to help calm his nervousness. ‘I hope that engine works.’

  ‘She will.’

  Everything was set ready. The boiler had been re-installed and filled with water. Wood, being kinder on the system as it was so clean and left little ash, was stacked ready in the bunkers. Pumps and valves had been checked; every nut, screw and bearing greased and cleaned. There was nothing to be done now but pray.

  They all gathered on the jetty, despite a chill wind, on this momentous day. George and Betty were there, and Margot holding tightly to Thomas’s hand. Even Bertie stood some distance away, feigning disinterest.

  ‘What
you going to call her then?’ Ferryman Bob wanted to know.

  There was only one possible answer. ‘Lakeland Lily,’ she said, smiling with delight. ‘What else?’

  The official launch was to be in a few weeks’ time, at the end of May, but first must come the trial run.

  Lakeland Lily was rolled down to the lake on bogeys. Both Ferryman Bob and Lily had gone over her inch by inch, checking for signs of any leak. There were none. She floated. She sat sound and stable in the water, looking bigger somehow, almost majestic.

  Lily was the one to open the main steam valve, letting the engine warm through, just to be on the safe side. She held her breath. Would it turn? Would there be any last minute hiccups? With a hiss of steam the engine came slowly to life and the boat slid slowly, almost regally, forward. Everybody cheered. Thomas was almost sick with excitement and Lily felt sure this must be the most exciting moment of her life.

  Now they could go ahead with planning the official launch. Margot was prevailed upon to send invitations to all her friends, which she did with ill grace and much grumbling about what on earth they would think of such a mad-cap scheme. Lily invited Hannah and Arnie, sadly aware that they wouldn’t come, for, after debating long and hard with herself, she also invited Nathan.

  Her agonising proved unnecessary since he politely but coolly declined. It hurt Lily beyond words that, for all they were no longer lovers, he refused to attend the launch even as a friend to wish her well. But since she’d refused to go to his launch, what could she say?

  Perhaps carried along by this wave of joyous achievement, Betty and George decided finally to tie the knot and settle into matrimony, though not entirely with Margot’s blessing.

  ‘I do hope this doesn’t mean you will be leaving us, Betty?’ The war had done nothing, in Margot’s opinion, to ease the servant problem.

  ‘No, ma’am.’ Betty shifted her aching feet in their sensible brown brogues and assured her mistress that she would be staying, having half expected to be turned out without a reference. ‘Not for the moment, anyroad.’