A Daughter's Journe

by Anna Jacobs

  ‘They’ll think I can’t control my own wife,’ he said gloomily.

  ‘Of course they will.’

  He blinked in shock at this.

  ‘And none of them can control their own wives, either. Well, the decent men can’t. I’m not talking about bullies like Rathley or his cronies. I deeply pity their wives.’

  He tried to get the conversation back on track. ‘Marion, please think of me. I’m a councillor now. It’ll look bad if you don’t stop work and—’

  ‘Of course it won’t! In fact, it’ll probably be useful to you as a councillor, because women who have to go out to work will come to ask my advice about whether to trouble you with their problems. And you will ask my advice about what to suggest to them.’

  ‘Well, you’re not to go out and about meeting people when you’re all – you know.’ He made a gesture suggestive of a big belly.

  ‘What do you think I should do, then? Hide under the table till it’s all over?’

  ‘Rest more. Get up later, take a nap in the afternoons.’

  ‘Hah! I’d go mad from boredom. You’re talking like my grandfather, who was a bossy old man and how my grandmother put up with him, I’ll never know. Now, are you going to let this silly idea drop or do I have to go and wait in my sitting room till you’ve gone to your work, so that I can eat my breakfast in peace before I get on with my work.’

  He breathed deeply. ‘But Marion—’

  She leaned forward, thumping one hand down on the table. ‘I will not give up work, Charlie. Not for this baby and not for the next one, if we do have any more children, that is. Though I won’t agree to have any more if you start trying to boss me about like this. I do believe you’re worse than you were last time!’

  ‘But I—’

  ‘I’m well aware of how ladies can prevent babies, you know. I’ve been reading about it lately because I don’t want to bear babies non-stop. One of my aunts had ten of them.’ She shuddered at the thought. ‘A friend told me that Dr Marie Stopes is planning to open Mothers’ Clinics all round the country, one of them possibly in Leeds, where my friend lives. I could visit her and get help from them.’

  His shock showed in his face.

  ‘Stop looking like that, Charlie. This is 1934, not 1534! Surely you didn’t think I was ignorant about that sort of thing. That’s real progress as far as us women are concerned.’

  You could never win against Marion when she got that challenging look on her face, he decided. And actually the fierceness and the way her eyes sparkled with life made her more attractive to him, as usual. Abandoning the argument, he captured her hand. ‘Oh, very well. Do as you please. You will anyway. I hate it when we argue.’

  She raised their joined hands to her lips and kissed his hand in that lingering way which always made him breathe deeply.

  ‘I do love you, Charlie, but I can’t turn myself into a cabbage.’ She tapped her head. ‘I have a brain and it needs things to occupy it.’

  He knew when he was beaten, so pulled her hand towards his lips and returned the long, slow kiss – satisfied when it affected her in a similar way, making her draw in her breath sharply.

  Smiling at this minor triumph, he turned at the door to remind her, ‘Don’t forget it’s the council meeting this afternoon. I may be late home. And Wilf Pollard is coming round to see about building your studio this evening.’

  ‘I’m looking forward to seeing Wilf and I wish I could be a fly on the wall at the meeting. How do the numbers stand?’

  ‘Just about even, with two unknowns, but don’t worry. We won’t let the people you’re thinking about carry on as they have been doing. We want to look after our town, not treat people badly and milk them dry of money.’

  8

  N ick woke early after his first night in his new home. For a moment he couldn’t think where he was, then it all came flooding back. He was back in Rivenshaw, with a new car and a new business of his own, something he’d dreamed about for years.

  Though that was exciting, it was also more than a little daunting.

  He picked up his watch from the bedside table and squinted at the dial in the paler light of early morning. Six o’clock. Earlier than he usually got up, but there was a lot to do, so he flung the covers aside.

  He had a quick bath in the old-fashioned bathroom, revelling in having it to himself with no one knocking on the door and telling him to hurry up.

  There was no hot water downstairs because he hadn’t lit the fire in the kitchen range last night to heat any. He wondered if Todd ever bothered to use the kitchen fire at this time of year. He’d ask him later. Thank goodness there was a gas stove.

  He lit the fire in the range, relieved when it took hold quickly and didn’t seem prone to smoking. He’d try to keep the fire burning low all day so that he could sit in front of it in the evening. He loved a cheerful blaze.

  He thought about his day: so much to learn about and organise, and Mr Slater was coming this very afternoon for his first driving lesson. Why on earth had he agreed to do that so soon? he wondered. Well, he knew why – because he was grateful to Todd, whose generosity had given him the chance of owning his own business.

  The two of them would be sending customers to one another regularly, he had no doubt. That was how things worked in both life and business: you looked after your friends and associates.

  First things first, though. Before he gave a driving lesson, Nick needed to be conversant with every aspect of driving his new car, and also to renew his acquaintance with the main streets of the town. Surely Rivenshaw couldn’t have changed all that much? Thank goodness he’d driven that sort of car before, but each vehicle had its quirks.

  He smiled wryly. And he had to plan out where exactly to take Mr Slater for his first lesson. Somewhere very quiet with little traffic of any sort, but with reasonably wide roads.

  After the kettle had boiled on the gas cooker, he toasted some bread on the fire as best he could, muttering in annoyance as one piece fell off the long metal toasting fork into the flames and refused to be tugged out before it turned black. He cut another slice and took more care how he put the prongs of the toaster into it, then fried up a couple of eggs to put on his rather patchily browned toast.

  Once he’d eaten, he cleared up the kitchen quickly, banked up the fire and went out to his car.

  Men and women were walking along the street to work by now, some of them yawning and looking heavy-eyed. Nick felt to be bursting with energy as he unlocked his new car.

  He didn’t get in straight away because he couldn’t help stroking the bonnet then walking slowly round it, gloating at how good the bodywork looked. He couldn’t resist walking round it a second time and trying all the doors, sitting in the passenger and back seats. Anyone watching would think him daft! He should stop messing about. Locking up the house, he took a deep, happy breath and got into the driving seat.

  As it had done yesterday, the car started first time, a good omen, he felt. He set off to drive round Rivenshaw town centre.

  He’d guessed correctly about one thing. The town hadn’t changed much since he’d lived here, though some buildings were looking rather shabby. He remembered the layout of the main streets clearly even after several years away from the area because when he was younger, he’d come into the town regularly on his bicycle to visit friends. His family hadn’t lived in the town itself but in a small hamlet to the south-east of the valley.

  He decided to drive up the hill next, to explore Birch End, which he had only visited a couple of times before and couldn’t remember. Kids went where their friends were, didn’t they, and he hadn’t had any friends who lived in Birch End.

  He didn’t meet any other cars as he drove up and down the terraces of small but decent dwellings, with older cottages dotted about here and there in the centre of the village. He found a road that led further up the slope and turned on to it, whistling softly as he came to some expensive-looking houses with large gardens. He supposed this was stil
l Birch End but what a difference! He couldn’t remember seeing this area before.

  When he returned to the terraces in the village centre, he carried on eastwards, slowing down as he came to a very run-down part, which must be Backshaw Moss. He stopped to stare round. Run-down! It was a slum. He’d not bring his customers driving to this part of the valley.

  Backshaw Moss consisted of only a few short streets and yards, which ended at an unmade road, more like a lane really, leading to open countryside. He turned the car and headed towards the main road that led up the valley, relieved to get away from the faint smell of bad drains that had hung over the slum dwellings.

  He stopped to pull out his watch. It was still quite early in the morning. Why not revisit the whole valley while he was at it, then he’d have a mental map of it? He carried on slowly up the hill to Ellindale, enjoying the more rural scenery. This stretch would be good practice for hill starts, but he’d not do that for the first lesson or two.

  As he was driving into Ellindale, he stopped to look at a railway carriage that had obviously been turned into a dwelling. He’d seen that sort of thing before at the seaside, but not out in the countryside. It looked well cared for with a neat little vegetable garden just visible to the rear.

  Time was getting on, so he turned round in the open area in the centre of the village and drove slowly back down the hill. He’d enjoyed his outing, wished he didn’t have to give a driving lesson today, there were so many business details to arrange.

  All of a sudden he realised he’d not insured the car yet and could have kicked himself for being so careless. He drove even more slowly and carefully back to Rivenshaw and parked the car in front of his new home again.

  He could see that the workshop was open now but he didn’t try to say hello to Todd, who looked to be working on a car engine, just waved to him. Anxious to insure his car, he walked into the town centre, remembering seeing an insurance agency not far away. To his relief it was open.

  Only when he’d paid his money and signed the various papers did he relax again.

  When he got back to the car yard, he patted the car and murmured, ‘Well done!’

  He was all set to give Mr Slater his lesson. He’d had it planned out in his head for a long time how he would start with a beginner, based on his previous work as a driving instructor, but with a few details improved. Well, he felt they’d be an improvement and he was going to enjoy the freedom of choosing how to teach people to drive safely.

  After Jo had left, Edna looked at her cousin Clarence apprehensively. He hadn’t said anything to her about the incident, but was concentrating on his breakfast, methodically working his way through a huge plateful of food. She’d seen how furiously angry he was, though, and that made her lose her appetite completely. His wife had said nothing and was also concentrating on her plate.

  Pushing her remaining food to one side, Edna aligned her knife and fork neatly, and waited for Clarrie to finish. She glanced at Gertrude but she was still eating as well. He seemed to go on eating for a long time, so she clasped her hands in her lap and stared down at her white knuckles. She could feel her heart going pitter-patter in her chest.

  Why did Douglas have to die on her? She needed him so badly to look after her.

  When at last he put down his knife and fork, Clarence looked across the table at her. ‘Could I speak to you in my study, please, Edna?’

  To her relief, his wife intervened, her voice quiet but firm. ‘I think anything you say to our cousin would be better said in front of me, Clarence, so that I can be of help to you both in the future. And given the delicate circumstances, we should go into the small sitting room and close the door first. We don’t want the maids accidentally overhearing what we’re saying, do we? You have a very clear voice and it carries a long way.’

  Which was a polite way of saying he had a loud voice, Edna thought. He did. Very loud.

  He hesitated then shrugged. ‘As you wish, Gertrude.’

  His wife led the way into the room she sat in during the day and gestured to a seat nearby. ‘I think you’ll find that chair comfortable, Cousin Edna.’

  When they were all seated, Gertrude looked at her husband and waited, head slightly tilted to one side.

  Clarence cleared his throat. ‘You didn’t tell us how troublesome your stepdaughter could be, Edna. All you did was hint that her behaviour could be extremely unladylike and that she rode out without escort, staying away all day, not to mention hobnobbing with stable lads and farmhands, and so on.’

  ‘Well, yes. She’s not only rather headstrong, but downright unladylike sometimes, well, most of the time by English standards. Australian young ladies brought up in the country are … well, unsupervised so often, it’s not to be wondered at, I suppose. But she nursed her father devotedly, I have to grant her that.’

  He spoke slowly and emphatically. ‘What exactly do you mean by headstrong? Did I – we misunderstand you? You seemed to be hinting yesterday that she was immoral?’

  ‘Oh, no! Good heavens, no! Douglas wouldn’t have stood for that.’

  ‘What, then?’

  ‘Well, um, she went her own way without seeking my permission or her father’s when he was alive. She even went off to work in Perth, though I told her it wasn’t the right thing to do. A capital city is not a good place for a young lady on her own, you know, but her landlady did seem respectable, if a trifle brusque – well, very brusque actually. Even in the towns, young women in Australia have more freedom than here, I’m afraid. A lowering of standards, if you ask me, and—’

  He interrupted her. ‘Hmm. I see. We’ll leave it at that for the moment, since Josephine is no longer living under my roof and will not be allowed to visit. There’s another thing I’ve been concerned about and that’s your welfare. Perhaps you could tell us again how your husband’s money has been left, so that I can help you with your finances if needed.’

  Edna looked at him in shock. ‘I couldn’t tell Douglas what to do about his finances. He wouldn’t have stood for it. And well … I don’t always understand figures. But I do know, because he explained it several times, that he’s left me the income from his money and investments, and that his Australian lawyer will look after it for me and remit it to me here in England quarterly. Mr Pakefield is a very capable gentleman, so I won’t need to trouble you, Clarrie. Not that I’m not grateful for your offer to help. I am, very.’

  ‘Are there any restrictions on what you do with that income?’

  ‘Oh, no.’ She recited the words her late husband had made her learn by heart, saying it was too important for her to get it muddled as she sometimes did with business details. ‘Douglas told me that the income is all mine to enjoy until I die. But if I get married again, I’ll get a lump sum of a thousand pounds and the rest will go to Josephine, as it will after my death.’

  ‘So she’s without money until then, dependent upon you?’

  ‘Um. Not exactly.’

  He looked at her in exasperation and was about to say something sharp when his wife intervened again, clearing her throat and shooting him a warning glance before asking, ‘What do you mean by that, Edna dear?’

  ‘Well, Josephine has some money that came to her from her mother. I don’t think it’s a lot, or why would she have had to get a job when she went to live in Perth? I’m sure I have never gone out to work, even before my first marriage. But I don’t know exactly how much it is. When I asked Douglas, he said his daughter was very well able to manage her money and I was not to worry about her. And I don’t, because she’s always been good at figures and her job was something to do with accounting.’

  She looked to her cousin anxiously and he scowled at her again, so she turned a pleading gaze on his wife.

  ‘Is Josephine’s income enough to live on comfortably , do you think, Edna, or just to manage on?’ Gertrude prompted.

  ‘I don’t know for certain, but she doesn’t buy a lot of clothes. She mostly makes her own and she re-made her mother
’s old clothes for herself as she grew up – just imagine that! – so she can’t have a lot of money to play with, can she?’

  ‘One would guess not,’ Gertrude said in a soothing tone.

  ‘I had better keep an eye on what that young woman is doing, if she stays in the valley,’ Clarence declared. ‘If only to make sure she doesn’t land the family in a scandal or get into debt.’

  ‘I don’t think she intends to stay long in Lancashire, Clarrie, just till she’s found her father’s relatives.’

  His voice was sharp. ‘I presume they’ll be the local Mellings bunch?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Her relatives can’t all be Mellings, can they? I mean, women change their names when they marry – why, I’ve done that twice already myself. Her father always said she probably had relatives here on her mother’s side.’

  Gertrude glanced at her husband and again interrupted hastily. ‘I think that’s enough questions for now, Clarence. I’m sure you have plenty to keep you busy at work. I shall take your cousin into Rivenshaw today and show her our shops. You’ll enjoy that, won’t you, Edna?’

  ‘Oh, yes. I love shopping.’

  ‘And I’ll introduce you to some other ladies during the next few days.’

  ‘I shall look forward to making new friends.’

  ‘Next week we can give a dinner party to welcome her, Clarence. I’ll draw up a guest list for you to approve. Then I’ll help Edna find a new home to live in.’

  On that thought she turned again to Edna. ‘Shall you have enough income coming in to rent a nice home and hire a couple of maids, do you think, or will you have to live in rooms?’

  ‘Well, Douglas said I would have more than enough to live on and he ought to know, but I’m not sure exactly how much will be coming in, only that it’ll be paid into my bank account in Australia every quarter and then transferred to my English bank account. I’m to write to Mr Pakefield once I’ve visited the bank here and set up a new account. But I’d be truly grateful if you could help me do that.’