by Dilly Court
‘I don’t know how to play games. When Smithson used to take me for a walk in the square I used to see children playing together, but they never asked me to join in with them.’
Alice stared into the flames as they danced around the coals, creating glow fairies in the soot on the fireback. ‘I know how you feel. I was an only child and it can be lonely, but you have me now.’
‘And Uncle Rory. I wonder what’s he’s going to give me. There was that big present he put under the tree and now there’s the little package he had in his pocket. I can’t wait to find out.’
An hour later a flustered Nettie brought them their luncheon, complaining bitterly about the amount of work that guests created. She thumped the tray down on the table and stomped off, grumbling beneath her breath. Alice attacked her food with a keen appetite, but her thoughts were with her mother and she could only hope that Clara was keeping an eye on her. It had been a traumatic morning, but at least Flora seemed to have recovered from her meeting with Molly Bishop. She appeared to have convinced herself that the woman was lying and that her real mother was the angel she had imagined her to be. Alice did not try to persuade her otherwise. It seemed too cruel to make a nine-year-old face up to such a stark reality.
Shortly after Nettie had cleared the table and taken the tray back to the kitchen, she returned breathless and red in the face to tell them they were summoned to the drawing room. ‘Me legs will drop off if I have to climb them stairs again today,’ she grumbled. ‘Cook is in a flap because the jelly didn’t set in time for luncheon and she had to serve the mince pies she was saving for dinner this evening. She threw a saucepan at Winnie what’s come in to help with the serving up and covered her with custard. Luckily it was cold or she’d have been scalded and might have died.’
‘I wish I’d seen it,’ Flora said, giggling. ‘I wonder if she licked it off. I love custard.’
Alice grabbed her by the hand. ‘Yes, so do I, but I wouldn’t like to wear it. Come along, Flora, we’ve been told to go downstairs. You want your presents, don’t you?’
‘You’re lucky,’ Nettie said gloomily. ‘I won’t get no presents. I’m off to Wapping to visit me mum and dad tomorrow, but I won’t get nothing. Poor folk can’t afford to give each other presents.’
‘Do they live in a cellar, Nettie?’ Flora asked eagerly. ‘Is it cold and damp and smells nasty?’
‘Certainly not, miss. They’re respectable folks. Pa is a lighterman and Ma takes in washing, but there’s twelve of us children and money is tight.’ She made for the door and held it open with a dreamy smile on her face. ‘One Christmas I had a poke of peppermint creams. I loves them more than anything, but I’m quite partial to toffee and barley sugar as well.’ She wandered off, still rhapsodising about the delights of sugary treats.
‘I’ll ask Uncle Rory to buy her some sweets,’ Flora said in a whisper as she followed Alice downstairs. ‘I’ve never thought about how poor people live before. It’s not nice.’
‘No,’ Alice agreed. ‘Poverty is dreadful.’ A vision of Horace Hubble sprang to mind and she shuddered. Would such a marriage be preferable to living hand to mouth? She led the way to the drawing room, putting such thoughts aside, and was about to knock on the door when Flora pushed past her and barged into the room. She dropped a dramatic curtsey for the benefit of the visitors and smiling angelically she marched up to her parents.
‘Merry Christmas, Mama and Papa, and everybody. May I have my presents now?’
A ripple of amusement greeted her theatrical entrance, and Lydia managed a tight little smile. Her husband leaned over to pick Flora up and he dandled her on his knee. ‘Merry Christmas, my darling.’ He kissed her on the cheek and set her back on the floor. ‘You may open your gifts.’
Alice stood at the back of the room watching Flora’s apparently carefree performance. She could only wonder at the resilience of children, and a quick glance in Rory’s direction convinced her that he was thinking along the same lines. Flora was sitting on the floor unwrapping the large present he had given her, and he edged his way through the assembled guests to stand beside Alice. ‘She’s quite remarkable,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I was afraid she would be devastated.’
‘Children are tougher than we imagine,’ Alice answered in a whisper. ‘She’s convinced herself that Molly Bishop is not who she claims to be.’
He frowned, shaking his head. ‘I was wrong to take her there. I should have known better.’
Alice was prevented from replying by a cry of delight from Flora as she opened a large wooden box and showed off its contents. ‘It’s a paint box,’ she cried gleefully. ‘With brushes so that I can make proper pictures. Maybe I could be an artist at your printing works, Uncle Rory.’
‘An able apprentice, I’m sure. You’re a lucky little girl, Flora.’ A large man with a red velvet waistcoat straining at his corpulent belly slapped Rory on the back. ‘That’s a splendid gift.’
Flora closed the box, stroking the polished lid with the tips of her fingers. ‘I want to be an artist like Alice.’
Heads turned to stare at her and Alice felt the blood rush to her cheeks. ‘Thank you, Flora, but I’m sure you are more talented than I.’
‘There is still our present, Flora,’ Lydia said icily. ‘Why not open it now?’
Flora reached beneath the tree and took out a much smaller gift, which she opened carefully. ‘A Bible,’ she said in a small voice. ‘Thank you, Mama and Papa.’
‘A leather-bound Bible,’ Lydia said firmly. ‘With your initials embossed on it in gold leaf, Flora. Aren’t you a lucky little girl?’
‘It’s very nice.’ Flora laid it aside, peering under the tree. ‘Where is the other present from Uncle Rory? He said he brought it especially for me.’
Once again heads turned to stare at Rory. ‘Did I forget to put it under the tree?’ he said loudly. ‘My fault entirely, Floss.’
‘You said you went to your office to fetch it,’ Lydia said icily. ‘Let us all see it, Rory.’
Flora jumped to her feet. ‘I can’t wait. I’m sure it’s something very special.’
Rory leaned closer to Alice. ‘It wasn’t for her. I thought she might forget with all her other gifts to open.’
‘You have to give her something,’ Alice said in a whisper. ‘You can’t disappoint her now.’
‘Well, Rory, we’re waiting,’ Frederick Dearborn rose from his seat. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve lost it.’ He glanced round at the flushed faces of his guests. ‘This is typical of my brother. He always was a scatterbrain. I could tell you stories of our childhood and the pranks he used to play. Our father beat him so often that at times he could hardly sit down.’
‘Don’t be vulgar, Frederick,’ Lydia said primly. She glared at Rory. ‘Well, where is it? We’re waiting.’
Rory patted his pocket. ‘I must have dropped it in the hallway. Perhaps Miss Radcliffe will be kind enough to help me look.’ He held his hand up as Flora danced towards him. ‘Wait there, poppet. This won’t take a second.’ He opened the door and stepped outside, followed by Alice.
‘Did you have anything for her, or not?’ she demanded angrily. ‘You can see how disappointed she was by her parents’ present.’
‘That would be Lydia’s doing. She’s not over-generous when it comes to her daughter.’
‘That’s not an answer. Have you something for her or not?’
He shook his head. ‘No, I’m afraid not. I just said the first thing that came into my head.’
‘So what was in the little parcel?’
‘It was a small gift for you, Alice.’ He took the package from his pocket. ‘I know it was a liberty, but I also knew that my sister-in-law would never think of giving you a present, even though you’ve done so much for Flora in such a short space of time. She’s a different child.’
‘I wasn’t expecting anything. You must give it to Flora.’
‘I can’t.’ He laid it in her hand. ‘It’s not suitable for a nine-year-old,
and it’s only a trinket, but you’ve been so kind to Flora, and I thought you’d like it.’
She opened it and found a gold ring with a single pearl in a claw setting. ‘It’s lovely.’
‘I saw it in a jeweller’s window and I thought of you.’
Alice shot him a sideways glance and realised that he was being serious. She knew she was blushing, but she was more concerned about Flora than she was for herself. Thinking quickly, she took off her precious butterfly brooch, which she had hidden beneath the stiff white collar of her uniform dress. She placed it in the paper and wrapped it, placing it in his hand. ‘The ring is beautiful, but I can’t accept it. Give this to Flora; she’ll love it as I always have.’
‘This obviously means a lot to you. I can’t let you do this.’
‘Flora means more to me. I can’t bear to think of how she would feel if you let her down now. She’s had enough disappointment today to last a lifetime.’
‘I’d like you to accept the ring. It’s a token of my respect and gratitude.’
She shook her head. ‘Thank you, but it wouldn’t be proper.’
A slow handclapping from inside the room and Flora’s high-pitched voice urging them to hurry made it impossible to delay further. Rory placed the ring in his breast pocket. ‘We’ll talk about this later.’ He leaned over and brushed her forehead with a kiss. ‘Thank you, Alice. You’re a very special person.’ Opening the door, he stepped inside to a round of applause. ‘I’m so sorry, poppet. We found it on the stairs. It must have leaped out of my pocket in an attempt to fly to you.’ He pressed the hastily wrapped gift into her hand.
She tore off the paper with a squeal of delight.
‘Do you like it?’ Rory asked anxiously.
‘It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.’ She jumped up and down, holding the silver butterfly up for all to see. ‘Look, everyone. Isn’t Uncle Rory wonderful? He knows how much I love butterflies and this one will be mine for ever.’ She turned to Alice. ‘Will you put it on for me, please?’
‘Of course.’ Alice pinned it to Flora’s dress. Any regrets she might have felt were dispelled by Flora’s happy expression. ‘It looks lovely.’
To a chorus of, ‘Let us see,’ and, ‘Come over here, dear,’ Flora danced around the room showing off her butterfly brooch.
‘Thank you, Alice,’ Rory whispered. ‘I’m forever in your debt.’
She glanced anxiously at Lydia. ‘I don’t think your sister-in-law approves.’
‘She doesn’t believe in spoiling children, as you’ll have noticed. Freddie would have been much more generous.’
‘Flora is happy, that’s all that matters.’ Alice smiled as she watched Flora being admired and petted by the guests.
Lydia, however, did not look pleased. ‘I think it’s time for Radcliffe to take you back to the nursery, Flora.’
Later, after they had eaten supper together and enjoyed the crystallised fruits and cake that Cook had taken it upon herself to add to the plain nursery fare insisted upon by Lydia, Flora leaped up from the table.
‘May I do some painting, please, Alice? I want to use my new paint box.’
Alice was anxious about her mother, but she could not bring herself to disappoint Flora. She smiled and nodded. ‘Of course you may.’ She cleared the table, making room for Flora to lay out her paint box and paper. ‘What do you want to paint?’
‘I thought I’d make a picture of a butterfly to give to Uncle Rory. I haven’t any money to buy him a present.’
‘That’s a lovely thought.’ Alice gazed at the silver butterfly pinned to Flora’s best dress, stifling a sigh of regret. She knew that her mother would understand her reasons for giving her treasured gift away. Even so, it had been a sacrifice, and now it was gone for ever. She sat back and watched Flora’s attempts to capture the delicate shape on paper. ‘Would you like me to do the outline for you?’
Flora pushed the paper towards her and Alice picked up the sliver of charcoal and began to draw. With deft strokes she outlined a butterfly and passed the sketch back to Flora, who concentrated on filling in the details. The clock on the mantelshelf ticked on and the minutes flew by, but Alice forced herself to sit patiently, offering help when asked and praise when necessary. Flora grew impatient and it was obvious that she was tiring. ‘It’s no good,’ she cried, throwing the brush down. ‘I’m not good at painting.’
‘Of course you are,’ Alice said softly. ‘But it’s a matter of taking things slowly. The more you do the better you’ll get.’
‘Will you finish it off for me? I want to give it to Uncle Rory tonight, before he goes back to his horrid lodgings. He can pin it on the wall and think of summertime and sunshine.’
‘I’m sure he’ll love it just as it is.’ The words had barely left Alice’s lips when Rory burst into the room without bothering to knock.
Flora jumped to her feet and ran to give him a hug. ‘You shouldn’t barge into a lady’s bedchamber without knocking,’ she said severely. ‘I might have been undressed and ready for bed.’
He picked her up and swung her round before setting her back on her feet. ‘I’m sorry, young lady. I didn’t realise that you had grown up so suddenly.’
Flora ran to the table and snatched up the painting. ‘I did this for you. It’s your Christmas present.’
He took it from her, studying it with an approving smile. ‘I’ll treasure it, Flora. It’s beautiful.’ He glanced at Alice. ‘You have an apt pupil, Miss Radcliffe.’
‘She did help me a bit,’ Flora admitted grudgingly. ‘But I did most of it, didn’t I, Alice?’
‘Indeed you did.’ Alice rose from the table. ‘It’s getting late and I really should be going home. My mother was quite unwell when I left this morning.’
‘Of course. We’re being very selfish keeping Miss Radcliffe from her family on Christmas Day, Flora.’ Rory laid the painting on the table. ‘When this is dry I’ll take it home with me, but I don’t want to smudge the paint.’
‘I suppose I have to go to bed now,’ Flora said, yawning. ‘I’m not tired.’
Rory bent down and kissed her on the cheek. ‘I’ll say good night then, Floss. I have to leave soon anyway so perhaps Miss Radcliffe will allow me to escort her home.’ He laughed, holding up his hand. ‘I know what you’re going to say, Alice. You are perfectly capable of walking back to Queen Square on your own, but I would enjoy your company if you could bear with me.’
The mischievous twinkle in his eyes was impossible to resist. ‘I’ll see Flora comfortably settled first,’ Alice said, smiling.
‘Merry Christmas, Floss.’ Rory left the room, shutting the door behind him.
Having put Flora to bed, Alice read her a story and made sure that she was warm and comfortable before kissing her good night. She left the room, closing the door quietly behind her, safe in the knowledge that Flora would soon fall asleep. She hurried down the back stairs to the entrance hall where Rory was waiting for her. Hoskins had either mellowed with seasonal good cheer or else he had been tippling in the butler’s pantry and he managed a smile as he ushered them out into the bitter cold of the winter’s night.
They walked slowly, treading carefully on the frozen surface of the fallen snow. ‘I’m sorry I put you through such an unpleasant experience this morning,’ Rory said with a rueful smile.
‘It was Flora who suffered, not I.’
‘I made a mistake and I only hope I haven’t caused irreparable harm.’
‘I think Flora needed to know the truth,’ Alice said slowly. ‘It will have hurt her, but she’s very young and she’ll get over it. It might be for the best.’
He came to a halt beneath one of the gas lamps at the corner of the square. ‘You have been her salvation, Alice. I wish you would accept the present I bought for you as a token of my appreciation for what you’ve done.’
She shook her head. ‘I can’t. I’m sorry, but it wouldn’t be right, and you owe me nothing.’
‘Maybe one da
y I can repay you in some other way, but I wish you’d change your mind.’
They walked on in silence and parted outside the house in Queen Square. Alice watched him stride away with a mixed emotions. She realised that she was in danger of falling in love for the first time in her life, but she suspected that Rory Dearborn was well aware of his charm and used it to his own advantage. He was both good-looking and wealthy, and could look far higher for a prospective bride. It was probably just a mild flirtation as far as he was concerned, and she should be wary. She was about to mount the steps when she was seized from behind.
‘I got a chiv and I’ll use it if you scream.’
Chapter Seven
A sharp pinprick in the small of her back bore witness to the truth spoken by a voice that brought back vivid memories of the cellar in Blossom Street, and the disgusting odour of an unwashed body made Alice feel physically sick.
‘If you kill me, Molly Bishop, you won’t get whatever it is you came for.’
‘How do you know it’s me?’ Molly spun Alice round with surprising strength, holding the knife to her throat. ‘Don’t think I won’t cut you, you stuck-up bitch.’
‘Why? What have I done to you?’
‘You was with him and you took my child away.’
‘Yes, we did, and it was for her own good.’ Alice brought her arm up with a swift movement, catching Molly off balance so that she tottered backwards, dropping the knife. Alice stamped on the handle. ‘Don’t try to pick it up or I’ll scream so loudly that the whole street will turn out. You’ll be caught and arrested.’
Molly cowered against the area railings. ‘I’m a poor woman, not in the best of health, as you can see. I need my little girl to look after me in me old age.’
‘We’ve no proof that you’re Flora’s mother. You couldn’t even remember her name this morning.’
‘It were a slip of the tongue, that’s all. Flora is mine and I want her back.’
‘If you had any feelings for her you wouldn’t condemn her to a life like yours.’
