Candles in the Storm (45 page)
Read Candles in the Storm Online
Authors: Rita Bradshaw
Tags: #Romance, #Sagas, #Historical, #Fiction
Daisy sat for a long time stroking the gnarled old hand, her eyes streaming and her heart sore, and then she asked Enid to help her lay her granny out. Cuthbert had had all the bairns at his house since it had been obvious the end was nigh, and while Daisy and Enid did what needed to be done, Kitty, Alf and Tilly joined him, Daisy’s brothers and their wives returning to their own homes.
Daisy and Enid had just finished and Daisy was filling the poss-tub to soak the soiled linen when a grim-faced Harold knocked on the door of the cottage. He had brought her clothes and belongings, he said quietly. Miss Cecilia and Miss Felicity were in the process of clearing the house before they sold it, and the solicitor had advised them they had to return what was hers.
‘Thank you.’ Even in the midst of her grief over Nellie Daisy thought how ill he looked, and something made her say, ‘Are you all right, Harold? I would ask you in for a hot drink before you go back but my grandmother died today.’
He stared at her long enough for her to become sure there was something terribly wrong with him, actually wringing his hands before he said, still in the same quiet flat voice, ‘I’m sorry, lass, about your granny. Give . . . give Kitty me best when you see her, will you? Tell her me an’ her mam’ll be movin’ on in the next few days.’
‘Where to?’
‘Don’t know, lass. Gladys was hopin’ they’d fit us in at Greyfriar Hall but they’ve given her short shrift.’
‘But you’ll be all right? I mean, with what the mistress must have left you?’
‘For a while, aye.’ He chewed on his lip for a moment. ‘But it weren’t as much as Gladys had hoped an’ it won’t last long if we don’t get work. Gladys is gettin’ on an’ I’m not as young as I used to be, an’ there’s not many places’d be lookin’ for a cook an’ gardener both.’
Daisy didn’t know what to say. There was silence for a moment beyond the sound of Enid pummelling at the washing in the scullery, and then Harold said, ‘I’d best be gettin’ back, Gladys is in a state. Miss Cecilia has made a list of everythin’ in the place down to the last teaspoon, an’ Gladys has got it into her head the young mistress thinks she might pinch somethin’.’
Well, Daisy for one wouldn’t put it past her old enemy. Her face must have reflected her thoughts because Harold dropped his eyes, switching his gaze to one side as he said, ‘You . . . you won’t forget to remember me to Kitty?’
‘No, I won’t forget, Harold.’
‘I wish . . . I wish things could have been . . . been different, lass, when we was all up at the house together.’
‘So do I, Harold, but I think the person you really need to say that to is your daughter.’
His neck stretched, craning out of his coat. ‘Aye, mebbe, but it’s too late.’
‘It’s never too late, not if you mean what you say.’
‘Oh, aye, it is, lass. You don’t know . . .’ He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple jerking. ‘Just give the lass me best.’
He turned on his heel, leaving indentations in the freshly fallen snow as he made his way back to the horse and trap. His bowed head and drooping shoulders gave the impression of someone who was in utter despair. Daisy stared after him for a moment before she picked up the package Harold had placed on the mat and shut the door slowly, turning to face the room in front of her. She glanced across at the bed on which lay Nellie’s still figure, and all thoughts of Kitty’s father fled her mind.
Her granny had gone, her lovely granny had gone, and right at this moment she would have given the world to be able to step back in time and become a child again, feeling her granny holding her tight and telling her that she was her own precious bairn.
When Tilly brought Tommy and the other children back to the cottage, Cuthbert accompanied her.
‘We need to talk to you, lass, an’ I’m sorry it’s like this but it might affect what you decide to do and so . . .’ Tilly stopped abruptly, aware she was gabbling.
‘I’ve asked Tilly to marry me, Daisy, and she’s said yes.’ Cuthbert’s voice was low in acknowledgement of her grief but he couldn’t quite keep a thread of elation from it. ‘It will mean she’ll move in with me, her and the bairns, and . . .’ He paused, not knowing quite how to put it.
‘That’s wonderful, Tilly.’ Daisy reached out and grasped her sister-in-law’s hands, keeping her voice steady. She had known immediately what Cuthbert was trying to say. There would be no room for Tommy at his cottage. Almost from the first the two of them had not hit it off. Cuthbert’s children were placid, like Tilly’s, but Tommy had all of his father’s assertive, enquiring nature and then some. ‘Tommy and I will be fine.’
‘Lass, things can stay as they are for as long as they need to--’
‘But it would be nice to have the wedding as soon as we can,’ Cuthbert interrupted hastily.
Daisy looked at him, a straight look. Cuthbert was a good man and would make Tilly a sound husband, but, like Tommy, she had never liked him. She said quietly, ‘I have a little money saved, enough to bury Gran properly and rent somewhere in Sunderland while I look for a job and someone to look after Tommy in the day, so you must get married as soon as you like. I shall rent somewhere unfurnished and take all the stuff from here, of course.’
‘Oh, of course, lass, of course. You’ve bought it all.’ Tilly nodded violently. ‘But won’t you carry on in service somewhere, now you’re so far up the ladder? As a companion or governess, I mean?’
‘No, I won’t go into service again.’ It was said very definitely. Suddenly there was only Tommy and herself to support and the change in her circumstances over the last two weeks had knocked Daisy for six. Or perhaps it was the loss of two dear old ladies, born at opposite ends of the social scale but still alike for all that. Suddenly she couldn’t discuss the future anymore, and was grateful for Tommy’s voice calling for her in the room above.
By the end of January Daisy and Tommy were established on the upper floor of a two-up, two-down terraced house in Mainsforth Terrace West off Hendon Valley Road, opposite the Villette Brick Works.
The location of the house was not ideal being close to the brick works, but a short walk down Villette Road and the better part of Hendon was at hand. Although Sunderland had absorbed the small villages of Hendon and Grangetown in latter years the main bulk of the heavily built up area lay eastward towards Hendon Dock and the Wear Fuel and Chemical Works; but westward, just past Barley Mow Cottage was Hendon Hill with trees and flowers, a fountain and well, and Hendon Burn.
Daisy was determined that Tommy - born to the sound of the sea and used to playing on the sands and running wild most of the time with the other fishermen’s bairns - would not be confined to the grim terraced streets more than could be helped.
The district had been electrified three years before so now the journey into the heart of Bishopwearmouth was not reliant on the old horse trams and was much quicker. But Daisy would have walked there and back every day if it had been necessary, rather than take accommodation in Sunderland’s stinking East End or the main part of the town where thick black industrial smoke hung in the air like a stifling blanket.
An added advantage with the house in Mainsforth Terrace West was that the landlady - a retired schoolteacher who was nevertheless a very active and agile sixty year old occupying the downstairs of the dwelling - had been very pleased to alleviate the boredom of her days by taking charge of little Tommy while Daisy looked for work. Furthermore, Miss Casey had assured her new lodger that the arrangement could continue when Daisy had employment, right up to the time Tommy started school. Tommy, a child of definite and immediate opinions, had cast the plump, merry-eyed little spinster in the role of grandmother from the first moment he had seen her, and their relationship was proving to be a happy one.
This, along with the fact that he had not once asked for Tilly or his old playmates but still seemed as ecstatic about being with Daisy as when she had first broached the news to the little boy, was a great encouragement but Daisy was anxious to find suitable employment quickly. By the time she had paid for her grandmother’s funeral - and she had been determined Nellie wouldn’t have a pauper’s send off like her father and brothers had had but a decent service and a nice plot in the churchyard - and other expenses, her carefully saved little nest egg was severely depleted.
But their two rooms were a real home. Daisy glanced about the sitting room, having just left the bedroom after settling Tommy down in one of the two single iron beds the room held. She had bought these along with new mattresses after selling Nellie’s bed and the two double beds at the fishing cottage.
In the sitting room the hard wooden saddle was standing by the wall under the window, but now its seat was festooned with flock cushions. Daisy had bought these from the second-hand stall in the old market in Bishopswearmouth and covered them in bright red material, some of which she had used to make matching curtains. The square wooden table was also from the cottage but Daisy had only brought two of the chairs, selling the other four. With a thick new tablecloth covering the old oilcloth and a pot holding a flowering azalea in the middle of the table, it was barely recognisable.
When Miss Casey had decided to rent the two upper rooms as a small flat she had had the fireplace in the room she had designated the sitting room replaced with a kitchen grate with cast-iron hobs. Although small, this now enabled pots and kettles to simmer in front of the fire. Daisy had bought a large guard for this with Tommy’s exploring hands in mind, but the child had made no effort to get too near, merely lying on the thick clippy mat in front of the range when he was tired, dreamily watching the flames flickering in the fire.
A small dresser and kitchen cupboard in the sitting room, and a wardrobe in the bedroom - again courtesy of a second-hand shop - completed Daisy’s small home. She felt it was clean, cosy and comfortable, and moreover that she and Tommy could be happy in it. There was just enough room for the privy and a washline in the back yard which was accessed by means of a door at the end of the hall, but no washhouse. This meant water from the tap in the yard had to be carried upstairs for washing as well as cooking, but Daisy didn’t mind this. All she wanted now was a job which would pay enough for her to support Tommy and herself.
She had considered asking Sir Augustus for a character reference but decided against it. William’s family had made their feelings about her clear on numerous occasions, and she wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction of refusing her. If it became necessary she would approach Miss Wilhelmina’s solicitor to vouch for her. Mr Crawford’s premises were situated in Fawcett Street in between the cabinet maker’s and the ironmonger’s and she could easily call and see him.
Daisy walked across to the table, pulling one of the chairs out from under it and sitting down. He was nice, Mr Crawford. He had written to her after the funeral saying that he was sure Miss Wilhelmina had been about to change her will in Daisy’s favour just before she died, that he had been due to visit the house regarding that very thing the morning they had found the old lady. It had been kind of him to let her know, and she was glad Miss Wilhelmina had felt that way, but in a sense she was relieved that this severance from the Frasers was final. It was her and Tommy now, and no one else -
no one
- mattered.
no one
- mattered.
The next week’s search for a job proved fruitless and by the end of it Daisy was seriously considering forgetting all thoughts of office work or something similar, and approaching one of the factories or the curing houses at the docks. It seemed a shame because she had come on well with her shorthand and was sure she’d pick up typing, given a chance, but she had little money left. She’d paid Miss Casey a month’s rent initially, but three weeks had passed already. She’d done the rounds and answered some advertisements and got interviews for two positions - one in a tea agent’s office and the other in Heatherdene Convalescent Home office - but as soon as she had admitted she had a child to support she had sensed a withdrawal on the part of the interviewer. She had explained the circumstances in both instances - that Tommy was her late brother’s child and she had assumed responsibility for the boy on the death of his mother - but it was obvious neither man had believed her. They had clearly both labelled her a ‘fallen’ woman and the interviews had been brief from that point.
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