by Mary Gibson
19
Elocution Lessons
‘Aer naer brehan caer.’
There was a burst of laughter from the small group of students gathered in the reading room of the Bermondsey Bookshop. Kate turned and gave them a look of wide-eyed innocence.
‘How now, brown cow,’ Mrs Cliffe repeated.
‘Hair nail brine car.’
‘HOW! We are dealing with the vowel “O” here, my dear. Our concern is purely bOvine, nothing at all to do with hair, nails, salt water – nor motors, for that matter!’ Mrs Cliffe was becoming exasperated, but her students were having more fun than they’d had in a long time.
Kate had decided it was best to go along with her father’s request for the time being, but thought she might as well enjoy herself in the process.
‘Once more, listen to my vowel sounds. How now, brown cow.’
‘High nigh brine cai!’
‘Better.’ Mrs Cliffe sighed and, defeated, moved on to the next unfortunate.
At the end of class, Kate was about to rush downstairs to see Ethel and present her with the inkstand when Mrs Cliffe called her back.
‘Kate, may I have a word with you?’
She sauntered over, feeling slightly sorry for dear Mrs Cliffe, who didn’t deserve such treatment.
‘You are a little minx.’ Mrs Cliffe smiled good-naturedly. ‘And I am perfectly happy to entertain you for a few weeks, but I know you’re only here because of your father.’
‘He asked you to make me sound respectable – but I don’t really want to change the way I speak.’
‘My dear, you already have. You’ve been living with Nora and Chibby for months and you have picked up their speech patterns quite naturally. You’re a very good mimic. In fact, you don’t need my classes at all. You could speak the Queen’s English perfectly if you chose to.’
She had always liked Mrs Cliffe. She was no fool and Kate wondered why, then, she hadn’t already seen through Archie Goss.
‘Why are you going into business with my father?’ she asked, without having meant to broach the subject.
‘What an odd question! I should tell you that’s a private matter. But I believe you’re a good friend to Nora. And so am I.’
‘Does that mean you’re only doing it for Nora?’
Mrs Cliffe considered for a moment. ‘Not only. I do believe it’s a sound investment. But I suspect Chibby’s business has swallowed up a good portion of his wife’s fortune, so yes, it’s mostly to help Nora.’
‘It won’t help Nora,’ Kate said bluntly, and Mrs Cliffe’s benevolent expression disappeared.
‘What do you know about Chibby’s business?’ she asked.
‘Not much. But I know a lot about Archie Goss.’
She saw Mrs Cliffe glance towards the staircase. Now the elocution class was over the reading room was open for members’ general use, and someone had entered. It was Johnny.
Mrs Cliffe lowered her voice. ‘This is not the place or time. Could you come to my house, tomorrow?’ she asked and Kate nodded.
Johnny, who had seated himself in an armchair by a reading lamp and was flicking through a periodical, looked up and said goodnight to Mrs Cliffe as she left.
She felt awkward with Johnny now, ever since she’d told Martin she could love him. But why shouldn’t she have? After all, Johnny had moved on himself.
‘Don’t tell me you’re taking elocution lessons?’ he asked, putting down the periodical.
She pulled a face. ‘My father’s idea.’
‘Oh, your fahther!’ he mocked.
‘Shut yer gob.’
‘Ha! There she is.’ He laughed. ‘Come and sit down, tell me what you’ve been up to,’ he said easily. ‘And by the way, you don’t need them.’
‘What?’
‘Elocution lessons.’
‘I know. I’m doing it to keep him happy.’
‘Oh? Not to keep you happy?’
She sat down next to him. ‘No.’
‘You’re not happy at your dad’s?’ He seemed surprised.
‘I’m not.’
‘But I thought it’s what you always wanted.’
‘It was, but it turns out he’s not the dad I always wanted.’
Johnny blew out a long breath. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Kate. But no parent’s perfect. Do you think you might get used to his ways?’
‘It’s not that simple, Johnny. It’s not his ways so much. I could put up with it if he was a drunkard, say.’ She saw him wince. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean—’
‘I know.’ He waved away her apology. ‘I didn’t put up with Mum, Kate. I just loved her.’
He was still impressive, and as she sat beside him, longing to tell him the truth about her father, she found herself in turns missing Johnny and feeling guilty about Martin.
‘If he was just a bad dad, I’d still love him, but I’ve found out he’s—’
‘A bad man?’ he finished her sentence.
She nodded.
‘Can I help?’
‘I don’t think so. I’ve got to be going, Johnny. Is Ethel still downstairs?’
‘No. She wasn’t feeling well. Had to go home. Why?’
‘I made this for her.’ She pulled the cloth-wrapped parcel from her bag and uncovered the inkstand.
His look of surprise was enough praise. ‘All those years at Boutle’s weren’t wasted after all! You’ve got a talent, Kate. Ethel will love it.’
‘I hope so. Goodnight, Johnny,’ she said, with a lingering sadness that she wasn’t allowed to love two men at the same time.
*
The following day, Kate was shown into Mrs Cliffe’s drawing room and the woman greeted her warmly. It was a cluttered room, every surface invaded by ornamental objects, little statues or lamps, and every wall covered in paintings of various styles and sizes. The objects were tasteful, expensive, evidence of Mrs Cliffe’s generous nature, original pieces, many made by Martin’s friends or Martin himself. Even the seat covers were hand embroidered in a modern, abstract design.
Mrs Cliffe offered her coffee from a silver pot on a silver stand and noticed Kate looking at the sugar bowl.
‘I was entranced by your beautiful work. Simple, elegant, functional.’
‘You bought it?’
‘I’m proud to be your first patron.’ Mrs Cliffe beamed.
Kate’s delight was obvious and Mrs Cliffe said, ‘I’m glad you approve of my putting your bowl to good use.’
‘That’s what it’s for! I prefer to make things people can use – doesn’t matter if it’s a silver bowl or a tin box, so long as it looks good.’
‘Things that you “believe to be useful and know to be beautiful”?’
‘Yes! I like William Morris.’
‘Oh, really? Now, Ethel told me on your first day you declared you’d come to clean, not read. She found it very amusing… but I’m pleased to see you broke your pledge at some point.’
Kate laughed. ‘I suppose I did.’
‘But now to more unpleasant matters. What can you tell me about Chibby Grainger that I don’t already know?’ Mrs Cliffe asked with a look of faint distaste.
‘Tell me first what you do know.’
‘I’m aware that, for all his charm and business acumen, he isn’t the ideal husband or father.’ She paused. ‘Of course, you know that I befriended Nora when she came to England and her own family shunned her. Her mother had been a dear friend of mine; I couldn’t see Nora alone with a child – and no husband.’ She looked to see Kate’s reaction.
‘Nora told me about that.’
‘When I met your father, I was won over. He’d been fighting at the front and these things happen in wartime. I gave him the benefit of the doubt and, when he did the right thing, I believed Nora had found a husband who would love and protect her. But the marriage hasn’t proved a happy one. I don’t know if Nora’s told you what happened to the child…’
‘I’ve met my brother.’
‘Really! Nora must tru
st you. I believe Martin and I are the only other people who know she’s been visiting him over the years. Poor little soul.’
‘I’ve found out more about the place he’s in, more than Nora knows. He’s not being treated as well as she thinks. And I’ve found out more about my father’s first marriage.’
‘Your mother died in a tragic accident, I was told.’
Kate shook her head. ‘I don’t believe that any more.’
Over the next couple of hours, while the sun moved round the room, blessing each object on her shelves and walls, Mrs Cliffe became enlightened about Archie Goss and when she finally understood, she said, ‘If even half of what you’ve told me is true, I could never give my money to Chibby now. As you say, it would be the opposite of helping Nora. If he has robbed and murdered one wife, what’s to say he won’t do the same to another?’ She shivered. ‘I’ll arrange for my solicitor to cancel our arrangement, and I’ll move heaven and earth to see Nora safely out of that marriage.’
She looked at Kate with sympathy. ‘But what about you? You’ve been very brave to come here. You surely can’t feel safe in your father’s house? What will you do?’
*
Nora looked stricken. She crossed her arms, hugging herself against the truth.
‘If Paul was being mistreated, why didn’t he just tell me?’
‘Because he was trying to protect you.’
Nora shook her head in denial. ‘He’s my son. I should have known. And how on earth did you pay the fees? Your allowance isn’t enough. Besides, Chibby told me he’d settled the account after Mr Woolf’s telephone call. I just don’t understand.’ She fiddled with a long string of beads, tugging till they broke and spilled onto the rug. Neither of the women moved to pick them up.
‘My father gave me a present – some silver plates – and I made things. Martin helped me sell them. I used the money to pay Paul’s fees.’
‘I’ll repay you – every penny.’ Nora flushed. ‘I’ll get my cheque book.’ She rose and hurried to a small bureau by the window.
‘Nora, stop. We both know there’s nothing in your bank account. He’s had the lot, hasn’t he?’
Nora stopped and turned, licking dry lips, unable to deny it. Kate pitied her – she understood only too well what the woman now had to face. The final death of her dream of a man who could take everything in hand, could manage and solve all problems, could talk of his own dream and make her believe in it, who, flawed though he was, loved her with all his heart.
‘You’ve got to be honest now, Nora. And I’ll be honest with you.’ Kate picked up her bag. She dug around till she found it. ‘Here, look at this. Do you recognize it?’
‘My earring! I thought I’d lost it – where did you find that? And what does it have to do with Paul’s fees or my empty bank account?’
‘Remember when we were trying on earrings, for the bookshop dance?’
‘Oh, yes. But not this one. It’s not a pair. I’ve kept it all these years… for sentimental reasons.’ She took the earring, looking at it with a small smile of remembrance. ‘Chibby’s first gift to me. He found it quite by accident – just the one, in a ruined house that had been destroyed by shelling. He helped me put it on, like this – she raised the earring to her ear, and he called me his gypsy princess.’
The earring spun in her fingers and Kate felt a chill at the cruelty of his lie. She wanted to snatch the earring from Nora’s hand. But she had done nothing wrong; Nora was no more to blame in all this than either Bessie or herself.
‘Nora, are you sure that’s your earring?’
‘Yes, yes! What are you talking about, Kate, there’s not another like it!’
‘Yes, there is.’
And Kate took from her bag Nora’s own tissue-wrapped earring. ‘Actually, this one is yours, the earring Dad gave you.’ She waited while Nora compared the two in shocked silence.
‘They’re the same! Where did you get the other one?’
‘It was my mum’s. Longbonnet – my Great-Aunt Rosina – gave it to me, said it was part of my inheritance. But I never knew what had happened to the other one. Not until that day we were looking for earrings in your jewellery box.’
Nora sat down, all the light in her eyes extinguished, and Kate carried on, feeling merciless. But it had to be done, like digging out a jagged splinter from an infected wound. She pressed on. ‘My mum was wearing these the night she died. My Great-Aunt Rosina found one earring in the street – it had blood on it. The other one was nowhere to be found.’ Kate let this sink in before continuing. ‘Nora, everything he told you was a lie. There was no ruined house and you weren’t the only gypsy princess he’d ever lied to. You know my mum was from a Romany family—’
Nora put her hands over her ears. ‘No more, Kate. No more.’ She looked so fragile, her face pale as porcelain, her thin hands pressing her temples as if she might crush her own skull like an egg.
‘I’m sorry. I want you to know it all.’
When Kate had finished, she feared that she’d destroyed Nora. But it was her own tears that fell now. Nora had gradually straightened as the story unfolded of a man who’d bled one woman dry and moved on to another, who’d abandoned one child and then another, who had killed one wife, and then…
‘If you stay, he’ll do the same to you,’ Kate finished. ‘You need to run.’
‘And so do you,’ Nora whispered, glancing towards the door.
‘Katy! Come here.’ Her father stood in the doorway. Had he been listening? She hadn’t heard the door opening. He could have been standing outside for a while. She got up, her legs like water, and managed to walk across the room. He encased her in a tight bear hug.
‘And Nora! I’ve missed my two beautiful girls.’ He wasn’t a jovial man as a rule. His humour was often dry and biting. Usually at someone else’s expense.
‘Did the trip go well?’ Nora asked, and Kate didn’t think her father could miss the tear-ruined eye make-up.
‘Very. And I’ve just been to see Mrs Cliffe with the news that we now have several guaranteed contracts with top French manufacturers for the next three years!’ He looked from one to the other, and Kate couldn’t work out if his good humour was merely a screen. He rubbed his hands together. ‘We need to celebrate, Nora. Champagne, I think.’
When they were seated in the panelled dining room, with the lamps lit and the crystal glasses glinting and the golden liquid bubbling, Kate’s nausea became almost unbearable. He had been to see Mrs Cliffe.
*
She still had the old tin box. The one which had contained all her worldly possessions when she’d left Aunt Sylvie’s. And that night, when the house was completely silent, she got it out again. In it she packed her mother’s jewellery, the Grimm’s Fairy Tales and some spare clothes. She wanted to take as many of her tools as she could carry. She felt no qualms that Archie had paid for them. It seemed like natural justice to recoup some of what he’d stolen from her.
She crept down to her studio and, as silently as she could, put hammers, forming pads and stakes, a fretsaw, a gas torch and her soldering iron into a leather toolbag. As she was about to exit the studio, she noticed a movement in the garden. Going closer to the French window she saw a ghostly figure, clothed in white, pacing the path. It was Nora.
Kate hurried to unlock the window and pulled her inside. Although she wore a long dressing gown and was wrapped in a shawl, Nora was shivering.
‘What are you doing?’ Kate asked, looking out into the garden, just to be sure her father hadn’t followed Nora downstairs.
‘I couldn’t sleep next to him, Kate. I can’t bear to hear his breath or feel his body. It’s not for what he’s done to me, it’s the harm he’s done my darling boy! I loathe him.’
Kate was glad to see that anger had pumped ice into her veins again. She looked like the woman Kate had first known: impassive, cold, but no longer brittle – she’d frozen stronger than steel.
‘Do you think Mrs Cliffe has told him anyth
ing yet? She told me she’d have to see her solicitor first!’
Nora shook her head. ‘No, I don’t think he knows. He seemed in such a good mood.’
‘Well, you need to carry on as if you know nothing – just until Mrs Cliffe can arrange things for you. But, Nora, when she pulls out of the business, he’ll know it was my fault. I need to be ready to go.’
‘She doesn’t have to tell him why she’s pulling out. Surely it’s safer for you if she doesn’t.’
‘He’ll guess – who else could ruin his character? The silver was to silence me. I wouldn’t be surprised if the only reason I’m living here is so he could find out what I remembered. Besides, I want him to know it was me who did it. It might be the only justice I ever get for Mum.’
She picked up the leather toolbag. ‘Start getting your things in order. Mrs Cliffe won’t hang about.’
‘You’re not leaving tonight?’ Nora grasped both her hands and Kate hated the thought of leaving her here to play out her lonely charade of a marriage.
‘I was afraid I might have to. But I’ll wait until Mrs Cliffe’s solicitor’s letter has gone to Dad’s office.’
‘And what shall I say to him – once he’s realized you’ve left?’
‘Tell him I’m an ungrateful, spiteful girl and I don’t deserve all he’s done for me.’
Nora made a gesture of impatience.
‘You don’t have to mean it!’ Kate hugged the woman, who was still shivering. ‘But you’re good at hiding your feelings, Nora. Just do what comes naturally.’
*
The following morning, she went to explain to Martin. His delight at her surprise visit soon turned to consternation as she told him what she’d learned about her father.
‘How long have you and Aunt Violet been plotting this and not telling me?’ Martin flicked a cigarette butt into his fireplace. He was as near to angry as he ever got.
‘It was only yesterday. I’ve come straight here! Why are you angry with me?’
He took her hand. ‘It’s not you. It’s at your monster of a father. To think you could be in danger from him once Aunt Violet’s ditched him! I never trusted him, never liked him, after the way he’d treated Nora and Paul, but I never suspected the depths of… Listen, Kate, you’re coming here, to live with me – today!’ His normally languid manner was energized. He seemed invigorated by her crisis.
