The Long Walk Home (41 page)

'Sam will go wi' Mary,' he said, 'and I'll stop wi' you.' He put his hand on her shoulder. 'Try not to be afraid, though it will be hard for you.' He remembered his feeling of helplessness when he was told that his mother had died.

'You'll stay with me?' she asked.

'I told you that I will,' he answered quietly. 'For as long as you want me to.'

He took her hand and they went back down to her father's room. He pulled a chair up to the side of the bed; then, taking a folded blanket from the bottom of the bed, he wrapped it round her shoulders and sat her down. He took hold of her hand and, standing by her side in vigil, felt that he was at last honouring his mother's last moments.

The end came before Mary returned with the doctor, who told Eleanor that even if he had arrived sooner there was nothing he could have done to stop the inevitable.

There was little to organize, for Edgar Kendall had already put arrangements in place.

John Thomas, the senior partner in his former practice, came to the house as soon as he heard the news of his death, to express his sympathy and tell Eleanor that she could rely on him to assist with any of her needs.

'Your father was unjustly accused,' he said, 'and we would like to make amends. He had served this practice for many years. His will is straightforward and all he had comes to you. There is not a great deal of money but enough for you to live on, providing you are not extravagant, and of course the house is yours.'

On the evening following the funeral, Eleanor's grandfather said he wished to speak to both Eleanor and Mikey. This is it, Mikey thought as he washed his hands and face and brushed his hair before going downstairs. He felt sick with anxiety. He wants me gone. He's Eleanor's guardian. He'll have plans for her future.

Eleanor smiled nervously at her grandfather. He knows what I want to do, but he could overrule me now that he is my guardian. I am not old enough in the eyes of the law to do as I wish.

'Come and sit down.' At Eleanor's suggestion, James Carlton had taken over the study since his return and made it his domain. Eleanor had rarely entered it when her father used it and had considered it a forbidding place. Now it was cluttered with books and newspapers, and even her grandfather's slippers in the hearth, which gave it a more comfortable and welcoming appearance.

'It is early days since your father's death, Eleanor,' he said, 'but I wish you to think very hard about your future. And as for you— er— Mikey . . .' James Carlton had some difficulty in using Mikey's first name; he didn't wish to address him as Quinn in case it seemed belittling, yet he would always address his peers by their surname, 'I would like to hear about your plans if you would permit me. So shall we start with you?'

Mikey pondered. Eleanor might not like what he had to say. She wanted him to help her with her project, and he would. But he also had to prove himself. He had to know what he was really made of.

'I want to earn a living,' he said. 'That's 'first thing. And then I want to improve myself. I've enrolled at 'Mechanics' Institute, but I'm having some difficulty because I'm not a good reader, and not much of a hand at writing either. But I'm good with numbers and at organizing people. And 'first step is done.' He grinned. 'My boss is pleased with me and I think he'll keep me on when this shipment is finished with.'

'Good.' James Carlton nodded amiably.

He's pleased, I bet, that I didn't mention Ellie, Mikey thought. Well, I don't have to tell him everything.

'And you, Eleanor.' Her grandfather turned to her. 'Are you still set on your original idea?'

'Yes,' she said and her voice was quiet. 'I am. I've discussed it already with you and with Mikey. I want to turn this house into a shelter and school for poor children. Girls as well as boys. We can use the downstairs rooms for a schoolroom and two dormitories. It will take money to convert it, but I think there will be enough.' She looked at Mikey and swallowed. 'But I don't know if I can do it without you, Mikey,' she said softly.

He stood up and came over to her. 'I'll work day and night for you, Ellie,' he said softly. 'Don't doubt me, please. But I have to earn a living. I have to prove myself,' and he added so softly that her grandfather didn't quite catch what he was saying, 'and I have to show that I'm worthy of you.'

Her face lit up and she smiled, but surreptitiously put her finger to her lips.

'Well then; if you agree, this is what I propose,' Carlton said. 'I can see very well that you young people are fond of each other and I have no judgement to make on that, except to say that Quinn'— he reverted to the norm— 'is quite right in that he has to make a living; but what I would like to do, if you will allow me, is arrange a tutor for you to catch up with your basic education. It won't take long, I'm sure. You are obviously an intelligent fellow. And then whatever you should decide to do in the future you will be well equipped to achieve.

'And for you, Eleanor,' he went on, 'I think it might be wise if I came to live here whilst you are making the necessary arrangements to alter the house. It won't do for workmen to come here knowing that you are alone. I promise that I won't interfere, but everyone will be aware of my presence and I can perhaps advise on monetary matters and make sure that you don't overspend your allowance.'

'Oh, Grandfather!' Eleanor beamed, whilst Mikey seemed overwhelmed. 'That would be wonderful—'

She was interrupted by an urgent knocking on the door. 'So sorry,' Mary said. 'But there's a young woman, well a girl really, at 'back door. She's almost dead with exhaustion and she's asking for you, Mikey. She says her name's Rosie.'

Hull 1860

'Rosie! Rosie! Can you come?' Eleanor called. 'The young Brooke boy is not well. Will you bring him up a hot drink, please?'

Rose, her fair hair neatly pushed under her cap, came upstairs five minutes later carrying a jug of cocoa. She was round-faced and pretty, a different girl entirely from the one who had fallen at Mary's feet two years before.

When they had coaxed the story out of her that evening, it seemed that she had been wandering the streets for several weeks after the cotton mill had closed down. She had had various jobs of work, pan-scrubbing in hostelry kitchens, washing at the washhouse, and other such menial tasks, but none had paid enough for her to rent a room, so she had slept out in the streets before finally walking to the workhouse to ask for admittance.

Ben and Tom had told her that Mikey had come back to Hull and in desperation she had decided to come and find him.

Mary made up a bed for her and gave her nourishing soup, whilst Eleanor's grandfather sent for the doctor who said, gravely, that he doubted she would recover as she was on the brink of starvation. But she did. Buoyed up by seeing Mikey again and being fed and comfortable in a warm bed, she recovered very quickly.

Eleanor had taken to her instantly and asked her to stay. She was now Mary's right hand, and had proved invaluable to Eleanor in bridging the gap between her and the street children who, when the house was up and running, had started to drift in as soon as the word got round that there was food and shelter for the asking. Not all wanted the schooling, but that was the proviso. If they wanted to be fed and have a bed to sleep in, then they must at least have some lessons in reading and writing. 'To better yourself,' Eleanor said to each and every one of them. Some of them drifted away, willing to take a chance on their own again after one good meal, but there were others brought by desperate parents who begged that their children might be given an opportunity which they couldn't provide. One such young mother brought her small son Walter, who, she said, was doomed to penury just like her if he wasn't given a chance.

Eleanor took the child in. Mikey had seen the woman walking away from the house; he told Eleanor that he knew her and that she and others like her had been kind to him when he was destitute and lonely.

There were Ragged schools in the town, but Eleanor hated the name. 'It's so offensive,' she said to Mikey, who in two years had risen to be foreman of the import and export company, but along with Sam still came regularly to help with physical jobs in the house and to deal with some of the unruly boys. 'Why should some children be considered only fit for the Ragged schools and not for the normal schools better-off children attend?'

In order to fund the house in the first six months she had written to local businessmen asking for their charitable assistance; Mr Thomas, the lawyer, had advised her on whom to approach, and in some instances she had appealed to them in person, rather as she had for the Goodharts. The money came in slowly at first, but she had a winning way and a charming smile which persuaded them that they might indulge her. Two altruistic female teachers who came knocking at her door, both in meagre circumstances, were offered food and accommodation and a small salary for teaching the rudiments of reading and writing.

James Carlton hovered in the background, never interfering, never giving advice unless it was asked for, and never offering to finance her project, for he knew how much she wanted to do this on her own initiative.

Mikey had applied for his brother Ben to work in the company office as a junior clerk. He was a very steady character and from his workhouse schooling had a good head for figures and a neat hand. Tom, on the other hand, was a boy always on the lookout for adventure; Mikey was sure that one day he would go to sea, just as their father had. They had both come to live with Mikey and Sam in a lodging house with a warm-hearted hardworking woman as their landlady, who was not unlike how their own mother had been.

It was summer now and there were only a few children in the house. Most preferred to be outside whilst the weather was so sunny and warm and Eleanor was quite glad of the respite. She thought too that she should give some time to her much loved grandfather, who had begun to seem rather unwell, often taking an afternoon nap.

She had told him how much difference he had made to her life. 'I feel so comfortable with you, Grandfather,' she said one day. 'I only wish that we had known each other when I was a child. I could never confide in my parents as I can in you, not without fear of saying the wrong thing or annoying them in some way.'

Her father's old study was now her grandfather's room and out of bounds to the children. Eleanor had placed a sofa in there so that he might rest undisturbed and yet be near to the hub of activity if he should feel like being involved.

She sat next to him now and he took her hand. 'You have brought me such happiness, my dear,' he said softly. 'And yes, I too regret the wasted years. But then, no sense in looking back and wishing for what cannot be.' He patted her hand. 'I'm very proud of you, you know. You have made a great success of this children's house, and in such a short time. I have known that sometimes you've scraped around for money and I could have helped you, but didn't as I thought that was how you wanted it to be.'

'Oh, and it was,' she said. 'I wanted to make a difference myself.'

'Which you have,' he declared. 'But I must warn you now . . .'

She gazed at him in some trepidation. What was he going to say?

'I must warn you that although you only have your father's allowance at present, there will come a time when you will be a very rich young woman.' He looked earnestly at her. 'Your mother and your aunt will receive only a small inheritance when I shuffle off this mortal coil. Now that your mother has married her Mr Walton, I feel that he can take care of her expenses; and of course your aunt's husband has money of his own. As for your brother'— he harrumphed gruffly— 'I heard from your aunt Maud that he is to marry a rich farmer's daughter, so he will have money; but in any case, I don't know him and he doesn't know me so I will not include him. So, Eleanor, whether you like it or not, and whatever you choose to do with it is up to you, one day you will have a nice little nest egg.' He smiled at her. 'So what do you say to that, m'dear?'

She took a deep breath. 'Well, first of all, thank you, Grandfather. Thank you so very much. But second, please don't let Mikey know anything about it, for I don't want to lose him, and I rather fear that the knowledge that I will be a rich heiress just might frighten him away for good.'

Mikey was jubilant. Ecstatic. The opportunity he had been waiting for, the possibility which had been murmured to him several weeks before, had actually come to fruition. His manager was having to give up work because of ill health and had told him in confidence that he was going to put Mikey's name forward as his preferred candidate to replace him.

'You're still young for such responsibility,' he had said, 'but I believe that you can cope with it. And,' he had added, 'this company needs young blood if it's going to expand.'

Mikey had thanked him and told him that he wasn't all that young. He was going to be twenty-one very shortly and officially a grown man.

This morning, the owner of the company had called him into his office and offered him the position.

'You're looking pleased with yourself,' Sam commented as they walked towards their lodgings. 'Lost a tanner and found a bob?'

'Yes,' Mikey grinned. 'Something like that. But I can't tell you yet, cos it's not official.'

Which was not strictly true. It was to be announced on Monday morning, but Mikey wanted Eleanor to be the first to know, and there was a reason for that also.

'I'm going to call in at High Street,' he said to Sam as they reached the turning for their lodgings, which were in a street off the Market Place. 'I'll catch you up later. Tell Mrs Dawson I won't be in for supper.'

'More for me then,' Sam said cheerfully.

They parted company and Mikey continued on towards the Children's House, as they had named it. What will Ellie say, he wondered, and what will her grandfather think? Eleanor was still under his guardianship until she came of age. He rehearsed in his head how he would answer what Mr Carlton would surely say: that he was of a lower class than Eleanor, and even worse had been in prison.