by Mary Gibson
As it dipped and sank beneath the Thames, she turned away to see that Longbonnet was watching from her doorway. The old woman nodded her grey ringlets and pulled her shawl closely around her before beckoning to Kate.
‘You’ll be leaving then, gel,’ she stated.
‘I’m going to live with my dad,’ Kate said, unsurprised now that the old woman already knew.
‘Come in.’ Longbonnet disappeared into the house, expecting Kate to follow. ‘I won’t be a minute.’ The old woman went upstairs and returned carrying a small box.
She opened it and held out to Kate a gold belcher chain. ‘That’s yours.’
‘Mine? No, I can’t take this, Longbon— Aunt Rosina. It’s too valuable!’
‘Course it’s valuable. It was your mother’s. So were these.’ Longbonnet pulled out a sovereign ring, some more chains, a brooch to fasten a shawl made of a silver coin, and lastly, a single, heavy gold earring shaped like a teardrop and pierced with a filigree pattern. ‘One of a pair, the other’s lost,’ Longbonnet explained, placing the earring in Kate’s hand so she could feel its weight. ‘Bessie wasn’t the poor slut they’d have you believe, Kate. She had her own money. It might not be like their money. We wear ours. Truth be told, there wasn’t a lot left betime she died. But I’ve been saving this for when you really needed it.’
Kate was bewildered. She’d ‘really needed it’ when Aunt Sylvie had chucked her out and she’d been forced to borrow from Mr Smith, so why had Longbonnet waited till now? ‘I’m grateful, but I think you should keep it. I don’t need it now, me dad’s giving me an allowance, you see.’
‘Don’t argue with me, Kate. But you just keep this quiet. Your darlin’ mother give these to me before she died. It was her wish you should have ’em. “Keep it all safe for me little girl, Aunt Rosina,” she said to me. “You’ll know when to give it to her.” It’s your inheritance, Kate. Don’t matter about what Archie Goss gives you or don’t give you, a woman needs her own money.’
Mad old Longbonnet had been the scary figure of Kate’s childhood, but now, wanting to honour her mother’s wishes, she took the jewellery, kissing the old lady without any trepidation. She was learning that appearances are no indication of character and, as she felt the weight of her mother’s treasure in her hand, she understood, too, that wealth was not the same as worth. For her the value of this ‘treasure’ lay simply in the connection it offered to her mum. Bessie Goss had worn it and therefore it was priceless.
She wasn’t looking forward to telling Aunt Sarah about her move, but was relieved to discover that her aunt held no grudge towards her. She sent Kate off with only good wishes, refraining from any more complaints about Archie, until Kate promised to visit her soon. Her aunt held up a warning hand. ‘If you come, you come, but don’t make promises you can’t keep, Kate. It’s what he always did.’
Kate decided it was best to leave it to the street gossips to inform her Aunt Sylvie that she’d left East Lane for good. Let her figure out for herself where Kate had gone.
Her final visit was the one she’d dreaded most and now, standing in front of Johnny’s front door, she rehearsed all the reasons why this wasn’t goodbye. She felt a brief, cowardly hope that he’d be out. But when there was no answer her heart sank and she realized it wasn’t a goodbye she’d come for, but a blessing.
*
It was all very well her dad saying he’d not have his daughter working in a factory, but by the new year the shopping trips with Nora and the stream of luncheon and dinner parties they gave had already begun to wear thin.
‘I’m not complaining,’ she prefaced to Nora as they sat in the garden room, drinking tea, ‘but I’m used to being busy. Going from three jobs to none in as many weeks… well. I wasn’t brought up to be a lady, was I?’
‘You’re every bit as good as any lady I’ve ever met!’ Nora said.
Kate smiled at her protectiveness. Nora had a surprisingly strong maternal side beneath her impassive exterior. And she was another who’d taught her that initial impressions could sometimes deceive.
‘I just meant I’m not used to idleness… not that I’m saying you’re idle, but you’ve got all your charity work.’
‘And you’ve got the bookshop.’
‘Hmm, but that’s only once or twice a week, and I mostly go to see the friends I made.’
Nora poured more tea and handed her a cup. ‘And Johnny, of course. How is he?’
‘He seems well, concentrating on his writing. The publisher’s collecting all his articles together and making it into a book. The title’s going to be Called On: A Docker’s Life in Bermondsey.’
‘Yes, Ethel told me, he’s done terribly well. But I meant, how is he coping with not seeing so much of you?’
Kate sighed. ‘Bit better than I expected. I thought he’d miss me more!’ She pulled a face.
‘Has he found someone else, do you think?’
Kate nodded. ‘Pamela, the blonde…’
‘Oh, I know, kohl eye make-up? Always made sure she sat next to him in lectures?’
‘You noticed! I knew he’d have no trouble finding himself another girl. I think she’s got a lot in common with him – writing, you know,’ she said, trying to be generous.
But it hadn’t been easy, this fracture in her life. It had been too sudden and, though well-intentioned on her dad’s part, too violent in its extreme dislocation. She felt loved, but she also felt adrift.
‘I think you should take your father up on his offer of fitting out a workshop for your silversmithing.’
‘I would if it was tin we was talking about. But I can’t let him buy me silver. It’s too expensive! I understand everything about money being tied up in the business…’
She hadn’t probed Nora further about their finances, but she’d been surprised at how extravagant her father’s tastes were. Now Nora was silent as she poured more tea. Eventually she said, ‘It’s something he can do for you. You should let him do as he wants.’
Because that’s what you always do? Kate thought but didn’t say.
‘It’s only because he can’t bear me being a tin basher – a tinker, his daughter!’ Kate had also learned that her father, in spite of his humble Bermondsey beginnings, was a bit of a snob. She shrugged. ‘Funnily enough that’s what they always called me at home, long before I got a job at Boutle’s. Aunt Sylvie used to say, “You’re a sly tinker, just like your mother!”’
Nora looked thoughtful. ‘But she wasn’t a tinker. She was Romany.’
‘How do you know that?’ Kate asked, surprised.
‘Chibby talked about Bessie, when we first knew each other. He told me she was Romany royalty!’
‘I never knew that…’ Kate said, thinking of her mother’s bequest, which she’d hidden away and told no one about, just as Longbonnet had instructed. ‘I’m finding out more about her than I have in all my life. Do you remember I told you about old Longbonnet?’
Nora nodded. ‘I do! You did a very good impression of an old lady.’
‘I found out she’s my Great-Aunt Rosina!’
‘Really? But I thought Bessie had no family left. Perhaps Chibby didn’t know.’
‘Perhaps,’ Kate echoed, while privately thinking that he must have.
‘Well, getting back to your smithing, there’s nothing stopping you from working in other metals if you feel you can’t accept silver – what about bronze, or pewter?’
Kate considered for a moment. Tin and copper and lead shouldn’t bankrupt her father. ‘Maybe I’ll do some of each.’ She smiled at the idea. ‘And perhaps he’d let me sell a few things.’
Nora looked doubtful. ‘Chibby has strange, old-fashioned ideas when it comes to the women in his life. He wouldn’t allow us to work.’
Kate remembered the years she’d slaved in the soldering room. She kept her peace. It was another life. And he’d been deceived about her.
It had been good to be talking like this to Nora again. She’d become less of a co
nfidante since Kate had moved in. There were now no more talks about the state of her marriage, no hints at her loneliness. Perhaps it was just that Nora was happier since Kate had come. But now she had an intimate view of Nora’s marriage, Kate looked in vain for signs of the bullying she’d once suspected. In fact, if anything, she saw excessive devotion.
But she now understood better Nora’s complaint that Chibby took up all of her life when he was at home. He was the same with Kate. Except she found him a welcome intrusion, one she’d dreamed of for most of her life, and she couldn’t get enough of his time or his attention.
That evening, when she and Nora came back from the Sunday bookshop lecture, her father was home. He’d been on another business trip, this time to France, in the region where he’d met Nora. He was sitting at the piano when they came in and beckoned to Nora – he seemed in a sentimental mood.
‘Remember this?’
He began singing in a rich, tenor voice.
Roses are shining in Picardy, in the hush of the silver dew,
Roses are flowering in Picardy, but there’s never a rose like you!
And the roses will die with the summertime, and our roads may be far apart…
Here Nora put a hand on his shoulder as he came to the phrase – But there’s one rose that dies not in Picardy! ’Tis the rose that I keep in my heart!
Nothing else was needed to convince Kate that she’d been mistaken in offering Nora the use of her soldering iron that day almost a year ago.
*
Kate soon discovered that her father liked to show off his ‘two beautiful girls’ – as she and Nora had become. When he wasn’t travelling, this meant accompanying him on outings where they could be paraded in public, or to dinners, which usually involved business investors like Mrs Cliffe. Archie Goss was the sort of energetic powerhouse who slept little and packed more into a day than most people did in a week. Even his meetings with Nora and Kate were scheduled. And so in the last couple of weeks she’d seen quite a lot of Martin, when he’d been press-ganged into escorting either his mother or his aunt to one of Archie’s social functions.
It was on one of these occasions that Kate casually mentioned to Martin the scene she’d witnessed, when Archie had sung his sentimental love song to Nora.
‘It was sweet, Martin, so natural and loving – it made me realize what a fool I’d been to suspect him of ever harming her.’ She spoke as to a friend, someone who might be interested in her guilt – and her happiness at finding herself wrong. She’d almost forgotten the alternative she’d once presented Martin with.
‘Sweet? Natural?’ He stared at her in disbelief. ‘Now you’re being a fool! Chibby never does anything without working it out a year in advance. It was for you, Kate – not for her!’ She jumped at the vehemence of his tone. ‘And so now they’re a picture of love’s young dream in your eyes, what does that make me?’
If they hadn’t been in the crowded reception room, with Nora and her father circulating and Martin’s aunt and mother within earshot, he would have been shouting at her by now.
Kate explained that she’d discounted all her stupid judgements, including the ones that involved Martin. But he was furious with her. ‘No! I won’t listen to another word. I’ve had about enough of being branded a – oh, I don’t know what you’d even call it! – a mistress beater! I shouldn’t have to explain, I shouldn’t have to talk about a married woman’s private life. But I’ll say it once and then I want you to leave it alone. When Nora came back to England seven years ago, she was nineteen, unbearably sad, beautiful, disowned by her family and very alone. I was eighteen. Of course I bloody well fell in love with her! And I think she loved me too, but only because she was so miserable.’
‘So, I was right, you did have an affair…’
He pulled himself up to his full height and straightened his jacket. ‘We were close, but it was all very innocent. She wouldn’t allow anything more and we certainly never committed adultery, if that’s what you mean.’ It was an oddly legal phrase for him to use about someone he’d obviously adored.
She snorted her contempt. ‘But you did in your heart.’ She repeated the phrase that the nuns at her old school had used to warn their girls. There was no escaping the heart, she thought, it would trick you every time. And now that she knew the truth of it, she thought her own heart might be betraying her into falling in love with Martin after all.
‘You don’t understand – there are things I could tell you, but it would be breaking Nora’s confidence. When Chibby came home from the war everything changed between us, and by the time you met Nora, yes, I might have still been a bit in love, but for her it was nothing but a friendship between us.’
‘Then why did you tell her to leave him for you?’
‘When?’ She didn’t think his shock was feigned. ‘I never said any such thing!’
‘You did! I heard you telling her, at the studio one day. You was both in the other room but I heard all right, you said, “You should leave him right now while you can.” And that’s why I don’t believe you about anything.’ Now she was angry with him.
‘Whatever I did or didn’t say to Nora, you’ll have to ask her for an explanation. But I swear I never laid a hand on her!’ He uttered the last phrase in a low voice, with great emphasis and a deliberate pause between each word, almost as if he were hammering a nail into her head. ‘Whoever made those marks on her throat, it wasn’t me…’
‘And it wasn’t my father.’
‘Perhaps not, but she would come to me for someone to talk to and I have to warn you, Kate, your precious father is not always kind. That’s the only reason I’d be urging her to leave him.’
Her immediate reaction was to defend Archie. ‘I know he leaves her alone too much and then expects her to drop everything when he’s back, but that’s because he really does love her.’
Martin’s lips compressed in disapproval. She thought there was jealousy there, but also something else.
‘What ain’t you telling me?’
He seemed to make a decision. ‘I don’t trust him.’
‘Why not?’
He stared at her for a moment and then pulled her out of the reception room, hustling her into the garden room. ‘Listen, Aunt Violet befriended Nora when she first came to England. My aunt knows Nora’s family, thought they treated her disgracefully, and she stepped in to help Nora with… everything. She’s been a good friend to her ever since. But she might as well have not existed as far as Chibby was concerned… not until Nora’s money started to run out. Then suddenly it was, “Oh, Mrs Cliffe, you must visit us here” or “You must come to the races, to the theatre…” She was invited to everything! And now my mother?’
She wanted to hit him. ‘So, you’re saying he just married Nora for her money?’ A minute ago she had thought she was in love with him, and now she hated him. ‘I think you’re just jealous. And besides, I’ve seen them together, in private, and he’s so romantic with her. You should have seen them the other night, I tell you, they were like newly-weds…’
He made a gesture of frustration and fixed her with a cold stare. ‘You’re famous at the bookshop, you know, for being able to read people, understand their insides, pinpoint the very thing that will bring them unhappiness – or happiness.’ His scathing tone told her there was a ‘but’ coming. ‘But you’ll never be able to read your father, and you’ll never understand those two, not until you’ve asked Nora about Paul.’
*
Martin had left the party without speaking to her again. Perhaps he never would. Over the next week she tried many times to broach the subject of the mysterious Paul with Nora. Normally so good at asking questions, Kate found this was one that she couldn’t articulate. Whenever it was on the tip of her tongue, she’d lose her nerve. It was the fear of an answer she wouldn’t like, she knew that. And so she let the pattern of their days as a new family continue, gradually coming to understand how it was that her mother had been so taken up with Arch
ie whenever he’d returned from trips away when Kate was a child. When he was home, he made himself the centre of everything, and when he wasn’t, you were left almost wondering what your life was for. This was the part of reuniting with her father that felt the least comfortable to Kate.
When Nora told her that Chibby would be away in Liverpool for a few days, Kate took the opportunity to begin constructing her own place, somewhere she could exist in the spaces between his absences, somewhere she could still feel herself. Although he’d been delighted when she’d agreed to his idea of a workshop and had asked for a list of things she would need, nothing had transpired. She decided not to wait any longer.
While her father was away, she began spending as much time as she could in the modest back basement room which had been set aside for her. She used her allowance to buy a small gas stove for heating the soldering irons. It was smaller but much cleaner than the big old coke ovens at Boutle’s. She loved the peace and order of the emerging workshop. The semi-basement room gave a partial view up into the garden through French windows, so there was enough light to work by and good ventilation. She had begun by working on some design sketches of bronze stands and shades for electric desk lamps and decided the time was right to order tinplate, a small amount of copper and some lead. She hoped to buy all her materials at trade, so she decided to visit her old friend Miss Dane at Boutle’s the following day to ask for her help.
Kate had been unable to get to the bookshop lately, nor had she seen much of Johnny. She missed them both and she missed Bermondsey. She told Nora that she’d take the opportunity of her trip to Boutle’s to volunteer for the evening shift at the bookshop. But when she arrived she found that more than enough volunteers were already on duty. She was tempted to go to Johnny’s, but he’d probably be with the clever Pamela. It was easy to see how Archie Goss had drifted away from his Bermondsey family over the years; a shift up the social scale was more than just a change of location. All the bonds East Lane shared – formed from the daily fight against poverty, dirt and disease – had been weakened and she hadn’t worked out a way to be both a Bermondsey girl and a young lady from Belgravia. She doubted she ever would.
