The Long Walk Home (8 page)

She daydreamed for a while and mentally arranged the imaginary little house with a cosy parlour and a kitchen for the cook, for they would have to have a cook, although perhaps they could manage with just one maid to do for them since she, Eleanor, wouldn't mind doing a little dusting now and then to help. And perhaps there might be a little dog or a cat to play with.

'What are you doing, Eleanor?' So engrossed had she been that she hadn't heard the dining room door open or heard her father as he quietly strode upstairs. Now he was standing in front of her.

'Nothing, Papa.' She scrambled to her feet. 'I was— I was memorizing my tables,' she invented. 'Miss Wright is unwell and I thought I would learn them ready for tomorrow— if she is better.' She fell silent and hung her head.

'And why can you not learn them in the schoolroom instead of cluttering up the landing?' He stared down at her. 'This is not the place for lessons.'

Eleanor swallowed. She had run out of excuses. 'I— I thought that if I had a change of view, it might focus my mind better.' Miss Wright had often told her about focusing.

Her father looked down his nose and pursed his lips as if considering her statement, something she imagined he did in court. 'Hm,' he said. 'And did it?'

She was astonished. Her father never asked her opinion. 'Perhaps it did,' she said meekly. 'But I think I'm ready to go back now.'

With a wave of his hand he dismissed her and it took all of her willpower to walk sedately along the landing and up the next flight of stairs to where the schoolroom and nursery were situated, when really she wanted to scoot away out of his forbidding presence as quickly as she could.

She sought out Nanny and confided that she was worried that perhaps she had misbehaved in some way, for her father had seemed cross about something. She was careful in her choice of words, bearing in mind that Nanny, though not exactly a servant, wasn't family either.

'What makes you think he was cross with you?' Nanny asked. 'He would surely have had it out with you if that was the case.'

That was true, Eleanor conceded. Her father was never one to hold back over an issue of what he might consider disobedience.

'It's just that I accidentally heard him saying he would not discuss something with Mama, and I thought that perhaps it might have been about me.'

A concerned expression fleetingly crossed Nanny's face, but then she smiled to soften her words as she commented, 'That just goes to show that eavesdroppers never hear anything good! But I think it was probably something else entirely and not to do with you at all. Perhaps it might have been about Master Simon; he'll be home from school very soon. Or perhaps your father has concerns at work. Whatever it was, there's no use worrying your head over it.'

'No,' she replied. 'I'll try not to. Nanny,' she began again. 'Will I have to get married when I'm grown up?'

Nanny took a breath. 'What a lot of questions today. Won't you want to get married and have a husband and a home of your own?'

'I'm not sure,' Eleanor said quietly. 'But I don't know what else there is.'

Nanny frowned. 'Would you rather stay at home and eventually look after your parents in their old age?'

'Oh, no!' Eleanor gazed at the old lady. 'I don't think so. But you didn't, Nanny. You looked after Mama and then Simon and me. You didn't get married, did you?'

'No,' she replied. 'But then nobody asked me. That's why I became a children's nursemaid and later a nanny. I wanted to be with children and there wasn't any other choice. I wasn't clever enough to be a governess or teacher like Miss Wright.'

'I see,' Eleanor said sadly. She cast her mind over her parents' friends and acquaintances and thought that out of all the married men they knew, there wasn't a single one that she would have chosen as a husband to love, honour and obey as would be expected of her.

The next day Miss Wright resumed her duties, though she sniffled a lot and constantly blew her reddened nose.

'Miss Wright,' Eleanor ventured as the morning wore on, 'are you very poor?'

Miss Wright stared at her with watery eyes. 'Certainly not! Whatever gave you that idea?'

'Did no one ask you to marry them?' Eleanor continued. 'Nanny said no one asked her and that's why she became a children's nursemaid. And I wondered whether if perhaps you were poor and yet clever, and that's why you chose to become a governess.'

A frown wrinkled Miss Wright's forehead. 'You ask far too many impertinent questions, young lady. You are in great danger of becoming a busybody.'

'Oh, but I wouldn't tell anyone,' Eleanor assured her. 'It's just that I don't know what I want to do when I'm grown up. I don't know whether to marry somebody if they should ask me or become a teacher like you, because I expect by then I shall be educated enough to do that.'

Miss Wright permitted herself a small smile. 'I think, Miss Eleanor, that you won't have to think about it too much. When the time comes I'm quite sure that your parents will choose somebody suitable for you; and you'll be as happy as they are,' she added ironically.

'Yes.' Eleanor nodded, and sighed. That is what I am afraid of.

Several weeks went by, and from time to time Eleanor heard snatches of her parents' conversation as she entered the drawing room. They always stopped talking abruptly when she went in and she felt that her father perused her, assessing whether or not she had heard what they were saying. But she kept her expression closed as her mother always did, never letting her emotions appear on her face.

Then one evening as she stood in her usual place in front of them, her father without any preamble said, 'Your brother is coming home from school.'

Eleanor looked up at him. Was she supposed to be surprised? Or pleased? He was early, at any rate. It wasn't the end of term yet.

'He has been expelled.' Her father waited as if she should make a comment, but she didn't know what to say. Should she feel guilty? What had he done to be sent home?

'For some weeks now he has been behaving badly, so the school has informed me.' Her father continued to gaze at her. 'They have punished him, as I suggested they should, and given him several chances, but to no avail. He is set on a downward path, I fear.'

'I'm sorry,' she managed to say. 'He doesn't like it there; perhaps that's why.'

Her father frowned; a deep furrow which delved into his forehead. 'I didn't ask for your opinion,' he reprimanded her. 'I am giving you this information so you understand that when he comes home you are not to speak to him. No one must; not your mother, not Nanny or any of the servants, and neither must you. Do you understand?'

'Yes, Papa,' she whispered. Poor Simon, she thought.

'He will be kept in complete isolation for a month. A month in Coventry; we'll see how he likes that.' Her father stretched his neck and drew back his shoulders. 'And then he will be sent away to another school. One that knows how to treat recalcitrant boys. Cold baths, exercise every morning, beating when they misbehave. And,' he added, 'if I should find out that you have been communicating with him in any way— do not think you can slip him a note when I have told you not to speak to him— then you will be punished too. Is that understood?'

Eleanor cast a glance at her mother, who was sitting still as stone, her face so pale and drawn that she looked as if at any moment she might slide out of her chair and fall in a faint to the floor.

'Is that understood?' he thundered. 'Do not look at your mother. Look at me and swear it.'

'Yes, Father,' she whispered. 'I swear it.'

Mikey spent another night under St Mary's arch. It seemed to be the most sensible thing to do. No point in setting off in search of his fortune on the day of his mother's funeral. He was dead tired and felt wrung out, emotional and guilty too about leaving his young brothers and sister; but what could he do? If he could have found a job which paid enough to cover rent and food, then perhaps they could have all lived together, but that was asking the impossible. It was at least a shilling a week for a room.

Besides, he thought honestly, if I only have myself to think about, then I can do so much more and travel further. He had it in his head that he would go away from Hull and the places he was familiar with. I shall be unencumbered, he thought. Just myself and the high road. I'll try for work chopping wood and so on, but even though those low hills I saw looked inviting, I'm no country boy and I think I'd be best heading for another town.

He didn't know the country, never having been. He didn't know the sea either, only the Humber estuary which carried the salty smell of the sea and where on wild days seagulls came shrieking in over the tops of the churning water.

He huddled against the wall. I could follow 'river's course, as far as it goes, and then cut across to the highways and make my way to . . . to where, he wondered. Where could I go to make my fortune? London? I don't know anybody who's been.

The town clocks struck eight; people were moving about the streets. The theatres and music halls would already be filling up, as would the inns and hostelries. Good luck to them all, he thought sleepily, if they've money to spend. He closed his eyes and saw flower beds and trees and the place where they had put their mother to rest.

'Hey!' A voice woke him from his slumber. 'You've pinched our spot again.'

He rubbed his eyes. The two women he had seen last night were standing over him.

'Sorry,' he mumbled. 'But I was that tired.'

'Have you still not found anywhere else to sleep?' the older one asked him.

'No. I haven't looked,' he confessed. 'I've been to my ma's funeral today. I'm going off tomorrow. I'm going to leave 'district.'

He saw in the gloom that the women looked concerned. 'Going to seek your fortune, are you?' one of them asked.

'I might be,' he muttered. 'Don't see why not.'

'Tell you what,' the younger woman said. 'You can stop wi' us tonight.'

He gazed at them warily. His mother's warnings came into his mind. 'Erm, I can't pay you. I've got no money.'

They both grinned. 'We hear that all 'time; but we believe you. Go on,' the older woman said. 'Go to Leadenhall Square. Second house on 'right. You can't miss it. It's got a broken front door and a cracked upstairs window.'

'H-how will I get in?' he stammered. 'Can I have a key?'

'No.' She laughed. Her teeth were blackened and worn down to short uneven stubs. 'Door's always open. If you see Milly or any of 'other lasses there, tell 'em that Peg and Sissy sent you and that you're stopping 'night.'

He clambered to his feet, hanging on to Mrs Turner's blanket. 'Thanks,' he said. 'If you're sure it's all right?'

They both nodded and waved him away and he knew that they wanted him to leave so they could have their pitch back.

There were no street lights in Leadenhall Square, but most of the houses had lamplight in the windows. At first he thought that the second house on the right was derelict. The door was broken, as Peg had said, but she hadn't said that it was hanging on by one hinge. The upstairs window was cracked, but so was the one downstairs, and both were covered over with cardboard. A young woman was sitting on the steps.

'What do you want?' she shouted at him as he approached. 'This your first time?'

'Peg and Sissy told me to come,' he said nervously. 'They said I could stop here for tonight.'

She got to her feet. 'You what?' She sounded incredulous. 'For free?'

'Yeh. I haven't got any money and nowhere to stop. My ma's just died.' He couldn't help the tremor in his voice and the woman— only a girl, really, though older than him— gazed at him curiously.

'Just for tonight, do you mean? Where will you go then?'

'I don't know. I was in their place— Peg and Sissy's. It was 'second time and they wanted me to move on.'

She sighed. 'So they sent you here! I don't know where you'll sleep. There're no beds; you'll just have to find a corner somewhere. Better'n being outside, I suppose. Not comfortable on 'street, is it? I should know.'

She led him inside, into a narrow hall and through to a kitchen. 'You can kip in here if you like. There's onny us comes in here to mek a cuppa tea or summat. What's your name?'

The floor was bare, but under a rickety table covered in crockery, bottles and bits of mouldy food was a thin rug. It might be flea-ridden, he reckoned, but more comfortable than lying on the cold ground he'd just vacated.

'Mikey,' he answered. 'Can I sleep under 'table?'

'If you like,' she said. 'But don't wake 'bairn.' She nodded over to the corner of the room. A drawer was placed on two chairs and in the drawer was a bundle. 'He'll sleep all night if he's not disturbed.'

'Whose bairn is it?' he asked curiously.

'Mine,' she said belligerently. 'That's why I'm here and not out on 'streets. I look after him and 'house and mek sure nobody else comes in.'

'I see,' he muttered, though he didn't really. The girl looked too young to be the mother of a child. But what do I know? It's all a mystery to me. He thought back to Bridget crawling under his blanket, and the touch of her flesh. He'd been excited by and yet ashamed of the sensation that had come over him. Suppose, just suppose that he'd been undressed and not still in his clothes. He broke into a sweat. Might Bridget have become pregnant?

He was an innocent. His mother had made sure that he was. Don't be thinking unclean thoughts, Mikey, she had said often enough. And keep away from girls. They'll only get you into trouble.

'What's your name?' he asked the girl. 'Are you Milly?'

She nodded. 'Yeh. I came here when I was expecting. Peg and Sissy looked after me.'

'Where's your babby's da? Does he live here?' He was bothered that some man might come in and want to know why there was a strange lad asleep under the table.

Milly laughed. 'I don't know. I don't know where he is or who he is. Don't much care, either. He'd not help me out even if he turned up and claimed 'bairn as his own.'

Mikey stared at her. He remembered his father very well, even though he didn't come home from sea very often. Money was so scarce that he only ever took short leave before going back to a ship again, but Mikey recalled that he was always worried about leaving them all, especially their mother.