The Seaside Angel

by Evie Grace

  Hannah gazed around the room, looking for somewhere to put it, but every surface was cluttered with Ruby’s bits and pieces: her sewing kit; a stray cotton-reel with its thread unwound across the bare floorboards; a grubby stocking; a bottle of scent. She picked up the bottle and removed the glass stopper, then held it to her nostrils and took a deep breath, as if by inhaling it she could bring her sister back to life.

  ‘You should wear it,’ Alice said gently. ‘This is Ruby’s day, after all.’

  Hannah dabbed a dot of scent on each of her wrists and rubbed them together, as Alice made the bed and cleared a space on the washstand for the food, some pieces of black crape and pins. It wasn’t right. It should have been Ruby who was standing there.

  ‘This is too much,’ Hannah exclaimed suddenly. ‘I can’t bear it.’

  ‘Come here,’ Alice said, turning and holding out her arms. ‘Let me give you a hug.’

  ‘I feel such a fool,’ Hannah sobbed. ‘I can’t stop crying.’

  ‘It’s only natural to feel this way. Let’s have something to eat, then I’ll help you braid your hair.’

  Hannah took a step back. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

  ‘You’d do the same for me.’ Alice dashed a tear from her face with the back of her hand. ‘Would you like me to help you tidy up a little?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ The presence of Ruby’s belongings was a comfort in a way, but also a reminder that she’d gone for good. ‘I don’t think I’m ready.’

  ‘Then we’ll leave it. There’s no hurry.’

  ‘I’m glad to see you have your appetite back,’ Hannah said, nibbling at some bread while Alice tucked into her breakfast.

  Alice smiled briefly. ‘I’m making the most of it.’ She got up and washed her hands, then put Hannah’s hair up in gleaming copper braids. Hannah dressed, putting on her dark dress, cape and black shoes, and her navy hat to which she’d attached a band of black crape.

  ‘Thank you for coming, Alice.’

  ‘You aren’t obliged to go, you know. Ladies aren’t expected to attend burials.’

  ‘I have to go – no one else will be there and I can’t bear to think of her being alone. I’ve written to everyone, and those who’ve replied have declined to attend for various reasons. I don’t blame them.’ She fiddled with her hatpin, then put it back in its box, deciding that it wasn’t appropriate for a funeral.

  She and Alice walked to the cemetery on Manston Road where a cart drew up with Ruby’s coffin, a simple wooden box, adorned with a single red rose. The sexton, four paid bearers and the chaplain from the infirmary turned up a few minutes later, followed by three carriages which halted at the wrought-iron gates.

  Hannah turned away.

  ‘Wait. I believe they’re people who’ve come to pay their respects to your sister.’ Alice squeezed her hand.

  ‘I’m not expecting anyone,’ she said, as the bearers lifted the coffin from the cart and began to walk along the pathway between the yews and gravestones, none of them more than thirty years old. Keeping her eyes on the box containing her sister’s mortal remains, she followed with the chaplain and sexton behind her. Why should anyone turn up, when Ruby’s behaviour had gone against the accepted view of maternal conduct and feeling?

  They made their way to a corner of the burial ground where a hole had been freshly dug. Hannah could smell the scent of the earth, and then the fragrance of cologne as the breeze ruffled the crape on her hat. She turned slowly to find herself face to face with a small procession of mourners: James who was supporting her stepmother; Doctor Hunter and Charlotte; Mrs Merry and Mrs Wells.

  ‘Did you know they were coming?’ she asked Alice through a veil of fresh tears. Alice nodded.

  ‘Nurse May wanted to be here too, but Matron couldn’t give her the time off. Your sister was loved, Hannah.’

  Doctor Clifton and his cousin offered their condolences and the mourners stood at the graveside to say one last farewell. Hannah picked up a handful of earth and dropped it on the coffin as the chaplain said his final words, ‘Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.’

  One by one, she thanked everyone for turning up, then whispered to Alice that she would like to go home.

  ‘Allow me to give you a lift,’ James said. ‘This is rather an imposition and you may, of course, choose to be alone, but I’ve arranged a small reception at the Cliftonville Hotel. Your stepmother has travelled from Canterbury and wishes to rest for a while before making the journey back. The invitation is open to everyone. Will Mrs Knowles miss you for another hour or two, Nurse Huckstep?’

  ‘Matron’s expecting me back, I’m afraid,’ Alice said.

  ‘Thank you for helping me this morning,’ Hannah said. ‘And, James, thank you for everything you’ve done. I’ll join you at the hotel – out of respect for my sister.’

  James helped her into the carriage and they set off for the wake.

  ‘How did you come to meet my stepmother?’ she asked.

  ‘She turned up at the house looking for you this morning – Mr Mordikai introduced us, knowing that I’d be attending the funeral.’

  ‘I haven’t thanked you properly for what you’ve done for me and Mercy.’

  ‘I would have done the same for any child, and for you, of course. Hannah, I would do anything for you – you should know that by now.’

  ‘Did you see her this morning?’

  ‘She’s doing as well as can be expected.’

  ‘You mean, she’s still in danger.’

  He nodded, as the brougham whisked them along the street.

  ‘She seemed a little better last night, but this morning …’ He said no more. He didn’t need to, Hannah thought, her heart filled with dread. ‘There was some blood …’

  ‘She’s still spewing up?’

  He didn’t respond.

  ‘What can we do for her?’ Hannah was crying again. To have rescued her, only to lose her … Don’t give up now, little one. Don’t you dare, she prayed inwardly. Your ma would have wished you a long life of health and happiness. The angels aren’t ready to receive you yet.

  ‘I haven’t used thalassotherapy in one so young – we can but try,’ James said. ‘I’d suggest boiling the water for a while to bring the salt out, then let it cool before offering it mixed with a little warm milk.’

  ‘Do you think it will have side effects?’ Hannah asked.

  ‘We’ll monitor her very closely. At the first sign of a problem, we’ll stop.’

  ‘I can’t leave her at the house for much longer without a ticket. I haven’t the funds to pay for her stay.’ She felt ashamed to admit it.

  ‘Don’t worry about the money – I earn more than I need.’

  ‘I can’t impose on you any more than I already have. You know that. People are talking—’

  ‘Let them,’ he said.

  She went on, blushing, ‘They think that we’ve formed an intimate association. They say that you’ve gone beyond the call of duty. There’s even talk that Mercy is yours …’

  ‘Why are you so upset about the rumour-mongering? Of course,’ he frowned, ‘you still aspire to become matron. I’m sorry for causing you grief in this matter, but I fear that it’s too late for me to take a step back – unless I hand over her care to Doctor Hunter.’

  ‘I’d rather you didn’t. You’ve been looking after Mercy – you know all about her.’

  ‘Then I will carry on. Don’t worry about me, Hannah. There was a time when I took gossip to heart.’ He lowered his voice. ‘I’m talking about the insinuations and accusations I heard when Suzanna lay dying. There were people who should have known better – Mr Anthony, for example, who suggested that my wife was a lunatic. I was livid, but in the end, I forgave him for it. Loose talk doesn’t bother me any more.’ He shrugged.

  ‘I’m sorry about the publicity,’ she said softly.

  ‘It’s fine. I’ve had new patients queuing at my door to see the hero doctor who tackled Mr Milani without a thought
for his own safety. It’s been keeping me and Henry busy, which is a good thing. Have you kept up with the news?’

  ‘No.’ She’d stopped reading the papers when she’d spotted the headlines about how her sister had sold her infant to the ropewalker.

  ‘Mr Milani was dragged in front of the magistrates and committed for trial at the next assizes. He languishes in Canterbury gaol, accused of grievous bodily harm and attempted murder. It seems that Mr Allspice convinced the magistrate that there was a case to answer. There is a chance he will be hanged for his crime.’

  ‘I have faith that God will exact the appropriate punishment. What he did to my sister is many times worse than what he did to that blackguard, Allspice.’ She didn’t want to think of Mr Milani again. ‘How are you? How is your arm?’

  He turned to her, smiling wryly. ‘It hurts, but it will mend. Bones repair more quickly than hearts, I think. I wanted to ask you – if you need occupation, something to take your mind off your troubles while you’re waiting for the Board’s decision, I’d be delighted if you’d come and work for me at the clinic.’

  ‘Haven’t you got staff already?’

  ‘I have Mrs Bellows who’s in her sixties and rather a dragon. While I’m somewhat incapacitated, I could do with some extra help. You don’t have to give me an answer straight away.’

  ‘No, I’d like to.’ She owed him.

  ‘I’ll pay you, of course.’

  ‘But I feel responsible for your injury—’

  ‘I can’t let you work for nothing. Mrs Bellows won’t admit it, but she’s struggling to keep up. With you there, she might realise that it’s time she retired, or at least reduce her hours.’

  ‘When can I start?’

  ‘Tomorrow, if you like.’

  She thanked him. She had rent and bills to pay, and she wanted to buy a memorial for Ruby, a simple tribute to mark her grave – this would be her salvation.

  ‘Are you able to give me any news on the boys on the Lettsom? I miss them terribly.’

  ‘They’re missing you too. Oliver and Ronald ask after you every time. Ronald’s chest has cleared, thanks to your suggestion that we try daily steam inhalation for his lungs. As for Oliver, the news isn’t so good. I’ve warned his poor parents that he hasn’t got long left, and they’ve decided to take him home as soon as they’ve found a private nurse who can look after him. He wants to sleep in his own bed and have his family around him. I’m sorry – I wouldn’t have been so insensitive as to speak of him if you hadn’t asked.’

  ‘It’s all right. As long as he’s comfortable …’ Hannah’s voice faded as she thought of the boy with the bright eyes and blonde ringlets. He’d put up quite a fight, but now it seemed that God had chosen to give him his wings as he had done with Peter.

  ‘You must think of Ronald and how you’ve helped him,’ James said, reaching out to touch her hand. It was the briefest contact, but more comforting than any words. ‘I’ll be sending him home soon and he’ll have every chance of living a healthy and happy life.’

  When they arrived at the wake, they drank a little sherry to toast Ruby’s memory before James excused himself, leaving Hannah to talk to her stepmother, who was dressed smartly in black with jet beads around her neck. She was approaching forty, yet she could pass as much younger with her slender figure and bright blonde hair.

  ‘I appreciate your coming, Stepmother,’ Hannah said, ‘but where is Pa?’

  Her stepmother couldn’t bring herself to meet her eye. ‘I’m afraid he had a prior engagement at the office, a meeting he couldn’t possibly postpone. He allowed me to attend instead, wanting to keep up appearances.’

  ‘What can be so important that he can’t put aside one day to bury his daughter?’

  ‘He sends his regards, and regrets. Those are his exact words.’

  ‘What about Christopher?’

  ‘We haven’t told him yet – he’s away at school until Easter, and your father felt that his studies shouldn’t be disturbed. He’s doing very well – we’re very proud of him. Hannah, what happened?’

  ‘I’m sure you’ve seen the papers,’ Hannah said, recalling how Pa used to read them every day at breakfast.

  ‘I want to hear it from you.’ A tear like a diamond formed in the corner of her stepmother’s eye and rolled down her cheek. ‘When I married your father, I was very young – I resented having to take on you and Ruby and I’ll always regret not trying harder to befriend you. I couldn’t be a mother to you – I didn’t know how.

  ‘After you left home, Ruby and I spent more time together, sharing our interests in reading and fashion. I grew rather fond of her, so I was terribly upset when she ran away. I begged your father to fetch her back, but he said she’d made her bed and she’d have to lie in it. Believe me, I did try. I wanted her to be happy, but she had this self-destructive, wilful streak. Did she tell you that Cook found her in an embrace with the butcher’s boy?’

  ‘She always denied it,’ Hannah said.

  ‘I asked your father to send her away for a while so the whole sorry episode could be forgotten, but he locked her indoors instead and kept her prisoner. Hannah, I wrote to you about this several times to warn you to keep a close eye on her.’

  ‘I didn’t receive any letters.’ Hannah frowned, then began to wonder. Ruby must have intercepted them and thrown them on the fire. It was just what she would have done to hide her shame.

  ‘I wondered why you didn’t write back. Oh dear, your sister became very secretive. I wish I’d come to warn you in person.’

  ‘It’s no use,’ Hannah said. ‘I have to look forward now, for Ruby’s daughter.’

  ‘How is she? The doctor told me that she was at the infirmary.’

  Hannah shook her head, hardly able to speak.

  ‘I see.’ Stepmother took her hand. ‘If there’s anything I can do, let me know.’

  It was a platitude, Hannah realised. Her stepmother might have professed her affection for Ruby, but she had no interest in her illegitimate child. Admitting one had a bastard in the family was like announcing one had the plague.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  On the Horns of a Dilemma

  The next morning, she washed and dressed, putting on her nurse’s cap, clean cuffs and apron. If she’d been married she would have been in deep mourning, not her work clothes, she thought, wearing black crape as an outward expression of her love for her sister, and a shield against unwanted curiosity. She recalled how when Theo had died, Stepmother had consulted with her copy of Cassell’s to decide what they should wear, and arranged for a London dressmaker to call, bringing ready-made clothes and patterns.

  She knew it was useless speculating, but she couldn’t stop asking herself if Ruby would still be alive if she’d obeyed their father and stayed in Canterbury; if Hannah had kept a closer eye on her; if she’d been stricter, or less strict …

  Bracing herself, she put a few of Ruby’s precious possessions into a box for safekeeping, then made her way to the clinic on Cecil Square. She gazed up at the house, feeling a pang of regret. If she’d accepted James’s hand in marriage, she could have been living there as his wife, not coming to work to scrape a living from the hours he could offer, which were nowhere near as long as those she’d had at the infirmary.

  Eyeing the brass plaque outside the door, to which Doctor Hunter’s name and qualifications had been added, Hannah rang the bell. An elderly woman answered.

  ‘Good morning. You must be Sister Bentley.’

  ‘Good day, Mrs Bellows.’

  ‘Do come in. Doctor Clifton is expecting you.’

  She waited in the reception area where the walls were decorated in cool blues and greys with a patterned wallpaper above the dado rail. The floor was carpeted and there were several overstuffed chairs for the use of the paying patients, who could read the magazines and books left on the side table.

  ‘Sister Bentley, I’m so glad to see you.’ She turned at the sound of James’s voice as he emerg
ed at the foot of the stairs. ‘I’ve been in to the house this morning, and Mercy is a little better, having taken to the breast. Now that she’s feeding on milk, I’ve been able to stop tube-feeding her. She’s still terribly underweight and sleeping most of the time, but she hasn’t been sick since yesterday.’

  ‘That’s a relief,’ Hannah said.

  ‘I’m crossing my fingers for her.’ He smiled briefly. ‘The ones on my left hand, anyway. We have a busy surgery this morning. Mrs Bellows will welcome the patients at reception while you assist in the examination room. You may hang your cape in the cloakroom through there.’

  Within a few minutes, Hannah was working alongside him, looking after their first patient, a young boy with bellyache. The second patient was a familiar face.

  ‘Oh, it’s you?’ Mrs Phillips said, looking down her nose at her as she entered the room.

  ‘Sister Bentley is assisting me while my arm mends,’ James said jovially.

  ‘I see …’

  ‘If you wish to consult with another doctor, I won’t stand in your way,’ James went on.

  ‘I will trust your judgement,’ she said quickly. ‘I have this rash, a few pimples across my chest. I would describe them to you, but it’s far better that you see them for yourself.’

  ‘Sister Bentley, help Mrs Phillips into a gown,’ James said, leaving the room for a while before returning to look at his patient at great length and with even greater ceremony.

  ‘Have you been taking blood purifiers recently?’

  ‘My friend recommended a course of iodide of potassium.’

  ‘You would listen to an acquaintance rather than your doctor?’ James made a pretence of looking aghast, and Mrs Phillips had the grace to look rather ashamed.

  ‘I don’t like to bother you all the time,’ she said.

  ‘It’s well known that blood purifiers can cause an eruption of pimples on the skin.’

  ‘I’m confused – the apothecary never mentioned it.’