by Nancy Carson
‘Not just late – drunk … And I’m not sorry for ticking you off. You deserved it.’
‘If I’m drunk, I’m almost bound to be late. You have to be more tolerant when I err.’
‘I’ll try. But you told me to keep you on the straight and narrow.’
He hugged her tightly, affectionately, and sighed. ‘Listen, Daisy, I’ve got to go away for a few days.’
‘Oh?’ she exclaimed, disappointed. ‘Where to? How long for?’
‘A week. Maybe a little longer. I’m going to Brussels and Paris.’
‘Can’t I go with you? I’d love to see Paris.’
‘It’s business, Daisy. It won’t exactly be a grand tour.’
She looked up at him kittenishly and pouted. ‘But I shall miss you.’
‘I shall miss you too, sweetheart. Kiss me.’
She kissed him.
‘Now come to bed with me.’
‘I’ve just got dressed.’
‘So have I. So what? We can get undressed.’
‘Oh, Lawson, you’re impossible,’ she said as he led her back upstairs.
Chapter 9
Daisy, Mary and Sarah visited the cottage in Paradise on the same day that Lawson had handed her the key. The row of cottages stood in a hollow on open ground, away from the town. The front of the houses faced north-west onto a field that was divided up into allotments. There had been talk of developing the waste ground to the south and east into a park which would partially surround the row, but also make it a fine location.
Not much more than two hundred and fifty yards away stood Netherton station and they could hear the locomotives as they hurtled from the tunnel that had been constructed by the Oxford, Worcester and Wolverhampton Railway some years earlier. Through the cottage’s upstairs window they could see palls of steam and smoke rising from the cutting in thrusting white clouds that dissipated in the wind. Close to the station, but side-on to the cottages and therefore unseen, stood a pair of huge gasometers, five or six storeys high when charged, and a sickly waft of gas inevitably issued from that direction when the wind was south-easterly; but they could smell the gasworks in Campbell Street as well.
Excitedly, the women stood together in the cottage’s small, newly decorated front room, and made their plans as to how it should be furnished and curtained. From her winnings from the cockfighting, Daisy would buy them a new table and chairs for the scullery and armchairs for the front room. They would choose bright new linoleum for the floors and Mary said she would podge a hearthrug out of Titus’s old jackets. Upstairs: new curtains, lino and bed linen. Outside in the yard, which they would share with three other cottages, the brewhouse had running water and there was a two-seater privy, which Daisy thought could turn out to be spectacularly sociable.
Full of enthusiasm, they walked back to Campbell Street to report the purpose of their outing to Titus and to embellish their findings.
‘Lawson has found we a better house to live in, Titus,’ Mary began on their return.
‘A better house?’ Titus queried, looking suddenly bemused.
‘Yes. Not a new house, but a better one.’
‘Well, that’s right noble o’ the lad. What’s it likely to cost a wik in rent?’
‘Nothing,’ Daisy answered proudly. ‘It’s rent-free.’
‘And where is it, this house?’
‘Down Paradise.’
‘Huh! It’ll be overrun wi’ mice, mark my words.’
‘There’s no mice, Father,’ Daisy said. ‘There’s no sign of mice.’
‘No mice, eh? And rent-free … down Paradise … Well …’ Titus shook his head pensively. ‘But I’m hanged if I’ll accept charity, our Daisy. I couldn’t. And any road, what’s the sense in we flitting? We’m all right here.’
Daisy looked at her mother as much as to say she expected this response. She turned to her father and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Well, hard luck, ’cause you’re moving and that’s that.’
‘Listen,’ Titus said, wagging a long, thin finger at them. ‘I can see what yo’ three am up to. Ganging up on me, yo’ am. But it’s no good trying to railroad me into doing summat what’s agin’ me nat’ral inclination. Especially without due consideration. I’d sooner stop where I bin.’
‘I’ve gi’d it due consideration, Titus,’ Mary replied defiantly, removing her hat and placing it on the scrubbed table, ‘and you’ll do as you’m told. It’ll be better for your health than stuck sitting in this damp hole like a flea in a dishcloth. And it’ll be better for me an’ all. It’s me what has to look after yer, remember. It’s me what has to walk half a mile to the nearest blasted water pump. There’s running water in the brewhouse down there.’
‘Sometimes our Sarah fetches the wairter,’ Titus said defensively.
‘Sometimes her does,’ Mary conceded. ‘But when her’s at work again, her won’t be hereabouts to fetch it. So I suggest you gi’ that some of your due consideration.’
Titus rubbed his eyes and sighed. ‘Well, tell me all about it, then.’
The women looked at each other acknowledging that Titus had as good as conceded defeat. Eagerly, they extolled the virtues of Lawson’s property, describing it vividly in turn. Eventually, Titus grudgingly agreed that if it was as good as they claimed, then it might be all right.
‘So when am we flitting? We’ll have to borry an ’oss and cart to carry all our trankelments.’ He was attempting to put one last obstacle in the way. ‘And how am I gunna get there wi’ me foot?’
‘On the cart,’ Mary said impatiently, ‘along with the rest o’ the trankelments.’
Daisy laughed at their habitual bickering. ‘Oh, you’ll love it there, Father, surrounded by trees and allotments. It’ll be quiet as well. There’s hardly a factory within a quarter of a mile … And they’re talking about making a park right by it with a bandstand. Just think, you’d be able to listen to the band playing of a Sunday afternoon.’
‘So when am we flitting?’ Titus asked again.
Mary looked at Daisy for a reply. ‘What d’yer think, our Daisy?’
‘As soon as we can. As soon as we can arrange to borrow a horse and cart. I’ll ask Lawson later. He’s bound to know somebody.’
‘What would we do without that Lawson?’ Mary mused.
‘Well, the day after tomorrow I’ll tell you. He’s off to Paris and Brussels for a week.’
‘Oh? Doing what?’ Mary enquired.
Daisy shrugged. ‘Business. How should I know?’
‘Well, you should know, our Daisy … Anyway, why don’t you use his curricle while he’s away?’
‘If only I knew how to handle the thing …’
‘Ask him to learn yer. Think of the shoe leather you’d save.’
‘That’s not a bad idea, Mother. Maybe I will … Listen, I think we should go and choose some furniture. Why don’t we go now up to the town? Father will be all right for a couple of hours. Won’t you, Dad?’
‘Have I got any choice?’ Titus said acidly.
‘Well, Sarah could stay here with you.’
‘No, I want to come,’ Sarah exclaimed, afraid she might miss something. ‘I want to go up the town.’
‘Hang me, but I’ve only just took me blasted bonnet off,’ Mary complained.
‘Well, put it back on again, Mother. And look sharp about it. I want to be back home by four at the latest.’
Titus scratched his head and looked from one to the other. ‘When am I gunna get me dinner? I’m clammed. I could eat a dog that’s died o’ the riff.’
Mary put her hands to her face and chuckled. ‘I forgot all about his dinner, poor sod. Shall we have a bite to eat, then, afore we go? Then we needn’t rush back.’
The next week was devoted almost entirely to moving from one house to the other. Such things as could be carried on foot they carried, in bags and boxes. Lawson paid for somebody to transport the Drakes’ furniture and bulkier possessions by horse and cart, and the move to Paradise went entirely wel
l, even for Titus. Daisy sat at home at night sewing curtains and nets, pondering what Lawson might be doing while he was away. Maybe her mother was right. Maybe she should get more involved in his business activities, especially if he were to allow her to use his cabriolet. It would take some of the load off him, enable him to get home earlier at night. It would save him getting waylaid by the highfalutin’ friends and acquaintances whom she had no time for, and returning home late the worse for drink.
And so the Drake family settled in Paradise. Daisy decided it was oddly named. If the sun shone endlessly, if the sky was eternally blue and everywhere was surrounded by beautiful white marble, bright poppies and umbrella pines, like in the painting by John Mallory Gibson that she loved so much, that would indeed be Paradise. But not here, in this misnamed corner of Dudley, tucked away in waste ground with allotments to the front, the Doghouse Brickworks and the slag heaps of the Old Buffery Colliery visible in the distance at the rear. But at least it was costing nothing in rent. She could afford to pay for their groceries and incidental needs; and Sarah could help when she found work.
Before he left for his trip, Lawson arranged for a decorator to spruce up one of the servants’ bedrooms in the attic of their own house and had a new bed and bedding delivered. He returned home after eight days. A hansom drew up outside the house and deposited him with his baggage in the late afternoon, the day before Daisy’s twenty-third birthday. He was tired and flopped wearily into an armchair in the sitting room.
‘I’ll make you a cup of tea,’ Daisy said, having fussed over him for a minute or two. ‘Do you fancy something to eat as well?’
‘A bit of pork pie and a few pickled onions wouldn’t come amiss.’
She smiled. ‘I bought a pork pie only this morning. It’ll be lovely and fresh. I won’t be a minute. Take your shoes off and put your feet up awhile, Lawson.’
She prepared his drink and his pie and delivered it, teapot and all, to him on a tray. His eyes were closed, but when she walked in and put the tray on the low table in front of him, he roused. She handed him a plate, poured his tea and sat beside him.
‘So … did you have a successful trip?’
He took a bite out of the pork pie and nodded. ‘Oh, you wouldn’t believe how lucrative, my love. But those trips to the Continent always are …’
‘What did you do? Who did you see?’
He waved his hand dismissively. ‘I don’t want to talk about it now, Daisy. I’m tired and I need some rest …’
‘The move went well for Mother and Father,’ she said conversationally.
‘Ah, good.’
‘I don’t know how we’d have managed if you hadn’t organised that chap with the horse and cart.’
‘It was no big thing. Anybody can organise a horse and cart. Folk are glad of the money.’
‘Well, they love the house, Lawson. They’re so grateful to you, you can’t imagine.’
He dismissed her gratitude with a brisk flourish of his hand. ‘Pour me a glass of whisky, Daisy.’
‘Whisky?’ A wave of disappointment swept over her.
‘Yes, whisky.’
‘All right …’ Now was not the time to take issue with him over drinking.
She returned with a measure and handed it to him. He downed it in one gulp.
‘I’m going to bed now for an hour,’ he said, and put down his glass. ‘I need some sleep.’
‘You haven’t drunk your tea.’
‘No matter.’
‘Shall I come upstairs with you?’
‘I’m going upstairs to sleep, Daisy,’ he said, misconstruing her intention.
‘I wasn’t thinking of anything else, Lawson,’ she said defensively. ‘I just wanted to be near you. I haven’t seen you for more than a week.’
‘Suit yourself.’
She thought better of it. His brusqueness grieved her. Even though he was tired, he could still be civil towards her, especially after having been away so long and married less than a month. He was thoughtless when in other ways he was so considerate. But he had warned her what he was like. She should be neither surprised, nor distressed.
Shortly after eight o’clock in the evening she heard him upstairs. He was awake. She put the potatoes on the hob to boil and next to it placed the pan containing the peas she had just shelled. He came downstairs, naked to the waist, and washed himself at the sink.
‘Your dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes. I’ve cooked you a nice piece of gammon. I’ll fry you a couple of eggs to go with it.’
‘I couldn’t eat it, Daisy,’ he replied.
‘What? None of it?’
‘None of it. Besides, I’m going out. I’m due to meet Jack Hayward.’
‘Oh.’ Her disappointment was manifest in her voice. ‘I did think you’d stay at home tonight, since I haven’t seen you.’
‘Can’t be helped, my love.’
‘Well, I’m not very happy about it, Lawson. Couldn’t you have arranged to see him some other time? I mean, your friends seem to see you more than I do.’
‘It can’t be helped, I told you.’ He rewarded her with a smile. ‘I was looking forward to having a nice quiet evening with my wife, but on my way back from the station this afternoon I called at the Saracen’s Head and Jack was there. There’s some prizefight on in West Bromwich. I’m running a book.’
‘But you could have put him off.’
‘Well, not really. There’s a fortune to be made. I daren’t miss the opportunity.’
‘Well, can’t I come?’
‘It’s not a fit spectacle for ladies.’
‘No less so than cockfighting, I would have thought. You took me to a cockfight.’
He shook his head. ‘This is different. It’s men beating seven bells out of each other.’
‘But—’
‘No buts. That’s my last word on the subject. Now tell me, how has the horse been? Have you been looking after him?’
‘Course I’ve looked after him. I’ve fed him, watered him, mucked him out. He’ll be glad to get out of that stable, I should think. He’ll be that frisky when you get him on the road.’
‘He needs exercising when I’m away. I could pay a lad to exercise him.’
‘Why pay a lad?’ she said, determined to utilise this God-given chance to mention her mother’s suggestion. ‘Why not teach me how to handle the cabriolet and I could give him all the exercise he needs.’
‘The trouble with that idea, Daisy,’ Lawson said with an amused smile, ‘is that I should never get my hands on the cabriolet again. You’d be trotting off to Paradise in it all the time.’
Daisy went to bed alone, thoroughly dejected. For eight days she had waited for Lawson to return home from France and Belgium. For eight days, sewing curtains, she had pondered his return and how good it would be to see him again, to laugh with him like they did, to lie with him now that making love was becoming so enjoyable. But his sporadic indifference to her she could not credit, it was so disconcerting. One minute he was blowing hot, next minute cold. Why was he so mercurial?
When he finally came home that night and slid into bed beside her, cold and reeking of drink, she pretended to be asleep. He did not molest her or bother her. Within a few minutes she heard his deep, sustained breathing and knew that he was already asleep. How much money had he made tonight on his bookmaking? And why was prizefighting so different to cockfighting? Both were barbaric.
Tomorrow was her birthday. So far, he’d shown no signs of remembering it. Well, on principle she would not remind him, but she would be sorely aggrieved if he forgot.
Next morning, having slept fitfully, she arose before Lawson woke up. If he found her beside him when he awoke he would expect her to lie there submissively while he pumped his seed into her, then expect her to wash it out. Well, he did not deserve her. She merited better consideration. Oh, she yearned for some romance, most certainly, but just to be used as an object to satisfy his impulsive lust was not part of her plan or her
expectations. She was his wife; beloved, to be respected. She was not some whore, there to lie on her back and satisfy the sexual urges of male incontinence umpteen times a day, for a shilling a go.
She stole downstairs, washed herself at the sink and prepared breakfast. The postman dropped a letter through the letterbox – for Lawson. Mr Turner, the dairyman, called for his dues and she paid him. Before Lawson was even out of bed she had left the house and had walked to the town for her shopping, and then on to see her father.
While she was at the cottage in Paradise, being given a birthday card by her family, Lawson appeared. Mary made a great fuss of him. She made him a cup of tea and brought out the cake she had made, which she had been saving for Sunday tea. Titus was full of deference, even offering to give up his horsehair armchair in veneration of his munificent son-in-law. Daisy was naturally pleased to see Lawson, but apprehensive lest he was in brusque mood. She had not yet learned how to read or predict him. However, Lawson was charming, humorous and inordinately polite to his in-laws. His affability rubbed off on her, evoking guilt that she had probably judged him unfairly in her fit of pique. They stayed about an hour before he suggested to Daisy that maybe they should return home.
‘I’m glad you came,’ she commented airily as they pulled away in the cabriolet. ‘I wasn’t looking forward to the walk back to Himley Road with these bags to carry.’
‘I was relieved to find you there,’ he replied, loosening the rein a little as they climbed the hill that would take them to Prospect Row. ‘When it was obvious you weren’t at home, I thought you’d run off with that milkman.’
She gave a little laugh at the ridiculous notion. ‘You hoped, you mean. You don’t really believe I’d ever run off with anybody, do you?’
‘I would hope you wouldn’t.’
‘The truth is, Lawson, I didn’t want to wake you. I realised how tired you were.’ She wouldn’t dream of telling him the real reason. ‘Did you do well at the prizefight?’
‘Oh, well enough.’
‘I was upset that you had to go out. You’re not going out again tonight, are you?’
‘I thought I might.’
