Danny squeezed Marion’s waist. ‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m sure,’ she said fondly. ‘It will be mid-August by my reckoning. Kathleen will be so pleased for us when I tell her the news. Do you want a boy or a girl?’
‘I don’t mind at all. If it’s a girl, I hope she has golden hair like you.’
My headache’s gone, Marion realised. Danny’s thrilled about the baby and all’s well.
‘Are you going to the pub tonight to celebrate Sam’s birthday?’ she asked.
‘No – I think we would both rather be at home with our wives tonight,’ he said. You have to grow up sometime, he thought, and it’s happened to my brother and me today.
SEVENTEEN
The weather worsened during January, with more snow, and there was not much they could do about the solicitors’ message except write a letter to Messrs Bartholomew and Hartley-Jones in Chancery Lane in London. Doc was asked to advise Kathleen on what she should say.
‘I can spell, you know,’ she said rather indignantly to Jessie when she heard he was willing to help. ‘I had a good convent education back home in Ireland.’
Jessie said soothingly, ‘But this is a business letter, Kathleen dear, and I really think that Doc is the best person to help.’
‘What about Sam?’
‘He’s emotionally involved. Doc isn’t.’
Kathleen went up to the attic, taking the newspaper clippings to show him. They sat side by side at Doc’s desk, and he took notes. When they were both satisfied with the draft, Kathleen dipped her pen in the inkwell and Doc moved aside and took up a ledger. ‘I should get our accounts up to date,’ he said tactfully as she began to write.
Dear Sirs,
Regarding your recent notice in the Times newspaper, I wish to inform you that I am the person you are seeking. I was formerly Miss Kathleen Clancy from County Clare and Dublin, after which I spent a short period in Croydon. I am now married to Mr Samuel Mason; we have two young daughters and reside at the above address in Kent.
I understand there is an important matter you wish to discuss with me. If you could suggest a date that would be convenient for my husband and me to meet with you at your office, I would be grateful. I can provide proof of my identity.
Yours faithfully,
(Mrs) Kathleen Mason
Although it was still cold in February, Sam decided it was time to travel to London to meet Mr Thomas Bartholomew, the senior partner in the firm. When the date and time were confirmed, Mr Bartholomew offered to take them out for lunch after discussing business. To Sam, this appeared unusual, but he kept his thoughts to himself, as Kathleen was already worrying about the journey, which would involve catching the steam train from Westerham station to the main line station at Dunton Green, where they would link up with the London train. When they arrived in the city, they would need to catch a double-decker bus, or a cab, to Chancery Lane.
‘You haven’t been to Westerham village yet, have you?’ Jessie said now, as they watched the children playing on the lawn in the back garden. Sam had brought the swing over from the Barn House and had also made a box on wheels for little Kitty to push along the paths, though she sometimes veered off course and ran over the flower beds. Then the cry would come, ‘Gamma! I’s falled over!’ old Bob sometimes staggered out and sat by the back door. His eyes were clouded over now and he couldn’t see much, but his ears twitched as he carried out his duties of watching over the girls.
‘Sam said the other day that I should go with Daisy next time she’s cycling to the shops. I want to buy a hat to wear to London to match the costume I’ve ordered from your catalogue. I wonder – would you let me borrow your shoulder cape, please, Jessie?’
‘Of course, with pleasure! It will go nicely with the costume. You might go to Westerham this afternoon perhaps, while the girls are having a nap. I can doze alongside them, eh? I’ll ask Daisy if she’ll take you and I’ll write a shopping list! Do you think you could get me some more two-ply white wool? I want to knit little bootees to match the matinee jacket I am making for Marion’s layette.’
‘I’m sure I can. August will be here before we know it. It’s good that you and Mrs Amos are talking again; she’s so much nicer now she’s got her heart’s desire!’
Jessie hesitated and then said, ‘She was worried for Marion, you know; they could see that Danny had feelings for you.’
‘I can’t help that!’ Kathleen told her. ‘At the start I was confused because I thought it was Danny I liked best, then I realised Sam was the one for me. Marion and I are good friends now; Danny has a soft spot for me, that’s all.’ She didn’t add, ‘As I have for him.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ Jessie said with a sigh.
*
‘Have they seen bloomers in Westerham before?’ Kathleen asked Daisy as they pedalled away from the farm.
‘Course they have! I go there reg’lar, don’t I? Some of the ladies look down their noses, but I reckon the men think we’re suffragettes, don’t you?’
‘I don’t mind at all. Votes for women, eh? When I get my chance, I’ll vote for the Liberals – I hope Lloyd George will become prime minister!’
Daisy grinned. ‘Watch out for the puddles; go round those, else we’ll arrive all muddy.’
As Kathleen swerved round a water-filled hole in the road, she thought, I feel like a young girl again, not an old married woman!
Westerham seemed more like a country town than a village. Daisy pointed out places of interest and they had a tour around before going to the shops in the high street. Kathleen learned that there would be a fair on the green in the summer, which was something to look forward to. The grand houses were awesome: Quebec House, the childhood home of Major General James Wolfe, and Farley Croft.
Sam had already told her about the famous people connected with Westerham. In addition to General Wolfe, there was also Charles Darwin, whose writings Sam studied avidly, and William Pitt the Younger. He hadn’t noticed that she was suppressing a yawn as she listened.
Kathleen’s tour with Daisy included St Mary’s Church, though they didn’t have time to go inside; the statue of Queen Victoria to mark her Diamond Jubilee; and Wester-ham railway station. There wasn’t a train in sight, so no clouds of steam to alarm Kathleen. She was relieved to see it was a modest station. They pushed their bicycles up Vicarage Hill and past the almshouses. At the west end of the village, Croydon Road joined the high street, where a sharp bend led to the old smithy.
‘I know where the places are, but you know more about them, Mrs Sam,’ Daisy said ruefully.
‘Only because Sam gave me one of his history lessons,’ Kathleen admitted. She added on impulse, ‘Why don’t you call me Kathleen? We’re friends, after all.’
‘But Mrs Mason . . .’
‘She was Jessie to me when she didn’t know me from Adam! She won’t mind.’
‘Here’s the draper’s, Mrs . . . Kathleen; I think we ought to buy the wool before we forget.’
They propped their bicycles against the wall and went inside the shop.
When they emerged a few minutes later, they had to wait for a crocodile of schoolgirls, accompanied by a mistress, to pass. The girls were smartly dressed in short tunics with wide sleeves to the elbow, and carried hockey sticks.
‘They come from that private school for girls,’ Daisy told Kathleen. ‘They should have worn coats, not capes, in this cold weather . . .’
They looked rosy and healthy, anyway, Kathleen thought.
They had arrived at the milliner’s and stood for a minute or two looking at the display of hats on stands in the window. Daisy gave Kathleen a nudge. ‘Someone’s looking out at us, see? Wond’ring if we’re customers. Let’s go in.’
The shop assistant was disappointed. Judging from their attire, and the bicycles outside, they didn’t appear to be the sort who would appreciate the lavish confections on offer. She had a sudden brainwave. There was that hat that had been under the counter for sev
eral years. ‘I think I have something you might like, madam,’ she said. ‘Very popular with marching women.’
‘What colour?’ Kathleen asked. Her legs were aching from turning the pedals all afternoon on her bicycle.
‘Dark blue, madam. I’ll fetch it for you.’ The shop assist-ant moved some boxes around behind the counter. ‘This one is half price.’ She discreetly brushed the dust off on her sleeve. ‘As you can see, it is a small felt bowler with turned-up brim; made with the marching woman in mind, I reckon.’
‘The colour would be right with the costume,’ Kathleen said to Daisy. The hat was placed on her head. ‘I’ll take it!’ she said. ‘And a matching ribbon, please.’
‘I hope Mrs Mason likes it,’ Daisy said doubtfully as they pedalled home.
When Sam came in, he burst out laughing. Kathleen turned her back on him and said, ‘If you don’t stop that, I’ll . . . I’ll . . .’
‘Kiss me?’ he said. ‘It will be fine as long as you don’t put your hair up!’
‘I like Mummy’s hat,’ Heather said loyally. Kitty sucked her thumb and didn’t give her opinion.
Kathleen left them abruptly and went upstairs. Jessie looked reprovingly at her son. ‘Sam, stop teasing her. You know she’s sensitive. Go after her and reassure her, otherwise you won’t be going to London at all, I reckon.’
Kathleen was lying face down on the bed, and refused to look up when Sam touched her shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, Kathleen, I didn’t mean to poke fun at the hat, but it does look like the ones ladies wore in the 1890s.’
She turned then. ‘Don’t you realise I’ve never bought a hat from a posh shop before?’
‘Oh, my darling, I know you didn’t have your mother around to take you shopping and advise you what to buy . . . Actually, that saucy little hat suits you – honestly. Let’s kiss and make up, eh?’
‘Oh Sam,’ she sighed. ‘Where would I be if you hadn’t kissed me at the brickworks that day?’
‘I knew you were special right away,’ he said.
‘I’ll kiss you now,’ she said, sitting up and drying her eyes. ‘But I may decide to wear my tam o’shanter when we go to London.’
EIGHTEEN
It was just after 7 a.m., and Sam and Doc were enjoying their breakfast while Jessie and Daisy were busy feeding the little girls. Jessie glanced at the kitchen clock. ‘Where is Kathleen, Sam? She’ll need to eat something before you leave for the station.’
‘Still getting dressed, I hope,’ Sam said with his mouth full. He didn’t appear anxious. He was all ready for the journey: clean-shaven, smart in his wedding suit. Jessie had tucked a serviette round his neck to protect his collar and tie. His hat and overcoat were on the hallstand, brushed and ready to wear, along with the cape for Kathleen.
Danny came through with the churns of milk. ‘The big day,’ he observed to his brother. ‘Where is Kathleen?’
‘What are you all fussing about?’ Kathleen said, walking into the room. She was wearing her smart costume, but on her head was the tam o’shanter. Sam was crossing his fingers that no one would comment.
Jessie tossed her apron to Kathleen. ‘Cover your good clothes while you eat your breakfast.’
‘I don’t want anything,’ she said mutinously.
A pause, then Danny appeared from the pantry. ‘Well if you don’t want it, I could do with a nice plate of eggs and bacon!’
‘I thought Marion would be cooking your breakfast later at home,’ Jessie said, ‘now she’s given up work.’
‘She hasn’t given up work, Mother; she’s feeling too poorly at the moment, so I told her Doc and I can manage.’
Doc cleared his throat. ‘Well I think it’s time I fetched the buggy. I’ll take you down to the station to catch the train. Please excuse me. When I return, I will come straight back to the stables to help you, Danny.’
‘Just a piece of toast, Kathleen, you must have something,’ Jessie said, worried.
Kathleen turned to Daisy. ‘Could you take the girls into the living room, please? Then they won’t see me go.’ She nibbled on the toast, leaving the crusts.
We pander to her as if she is still a child too, Jessie thought, for once feeling exasperated. She looked at Danny. He was unshaven and in his working clothes; he looked tired, and was obviously hungry. His eyes were on Kathleen, her long glossy hair tied back with ribbon, the tam o’shanter at a jaunty angle on her head.
Danny was thinking how smart Kathleen looked. Marion seemed to spend most of her time complaining these days because she had put on so much weight despite being only three months pregnant. He suspected Mrs Amos was responsible for advising her daughter not to allow normal relations with her husband; although, he thought bitterly, I shouldn’t be surprised if she called it carnal relations . . .
Sam broke into Danny’s reverie. ‘I’m not sure how long everything will take today; we might perhaps need to stay overnight.’
‘No need to worry,’ Jessie reassured him. ‘You can always telephone us.’ She was very proud to have the tele-phone installed; it was needed for business mainly, but was proving a good investment all round.
‘What about the children?’ Kathleen asked. She had packed a valise in case, and had tucked away in her purse the sprig of heather from the pocket of the cape she had been given by Min on the last lap of her journey here.
‘They will be fine; after all, we look after them for you when necessary, don’t we?’ Jessie reminded her. ‘If you do stay in London overnight, Daisy, I’m sure, will sleep in their room with them.’
*
The train arrived, belching steam, and Kathleen clung to Sam’s arm. They had arrived at the station with ten minutes to spare. Doc wished them farewell and good luck; he had a busy day ahead in the stables, and also two appointments later in his role of horse doctor. He was still much in demand with the local horse breeders. These were thoroughbred mares and their progeny were destined for the world of racing and hunting.
There was a clanging of carriage doors as passengers disembarked or climbed aboard. Sam guided Kathleen to an empty carriage near the guard’s van. She settled herself with her back to the engine and told him, ‘Hold my hand! The guard is waving us off.’
‘Now we begin our big adventure.’ As he removed his stovepipe hat, he saw her bottom lip tremble. ‘Anyone would think you’d never seen a train before.’
The train was jolting forward, getting up steam, and would soon be well on its way to the main line station. No one joined them in the carriage. On the platform, people were walking about, some waving as they spotted friends and relatives through the train windows. Sam put his arms round Kathleen and hugged her tight. He gave her a long, lingering kiss. ‘There, you didn’t kiss me this morning!’
‘Well, you weren’t off to work, were you?’ She actually giggled. ‘I do love you, Sam.’
‘I know you do, darling.’ He released her and sat back.
‘Sam, I’m worried about Danny,’ she ventured.
‘Whatever for? I don’t suppose he likes being at the Amos place and probably regrets leaving the farm, but it gave us the chance to return there, and I know how happy you were to do so,’ he said.
I’m not going to say what I really think, she thought, but I know Danny still cares for me.
*
They were in good time for the London train, but the platform was crowded. Kathleen clung to Sam, trying to ignore the noise and bustle. ‘Would you like a paper?’ he asked.
‘Yes, and a magazine – for ladies!’ she decided.
They were aboard at last, and this time the carriage was full. Two men had a spirited exchange over opening and shutting the window. ‘D’you really want a smut in your eye?’ one demanded of the other. Sam and Kathleen pretended to be engrossed in reading.
Kathleen actually found herself nodding off; after all, it had been an early start to the day. She let her head rest on Sam’s broad shoulder and he gently tilted her hat away from his neck because he could
see the lethal-looking hatpin. A girl’s best friend, so it was said.
London was bewildering to them both. The roads were busy with motorcars, some with chauffeurs honking horns, as well as horse-drawn and motor buses, the latter with crowded top decks open to the elements and eye-catching advertisements on their sides. Dodging between these were donkey carts and bicycles, and pedestrians taking a chance by dashing across the road to the other side.
Taking advice from a well-dressed businessman, also waiting to cross over at his peril, they boarded a motor bus, which would take them close to their destination.
They were relieved to arrive in Chancery Lane, though when they located the correct building, they discovered it was occupied by several different businesses. Fortunately there was a sign on the wall indicating where they needed to go. They had to climb several flights of stairs before they arrived at the solicitors’ office.
‘This is it,’ Sam said, pressing the doorbell. ‘We are just on time.’
The door opened and a young clerk ushered them into the outer office, where a lady typewriter, as they were called, was pounding away on a machine with a long carriage necessary for legal documents. She looked up and said politely, ‘Good morning.’
Kathleen plucked up courage to whisper to her, ‘Is there a . . . a cloakroom, please?’
‘The door on the left. No need to hurry, Mr Bartholo-mew knows you’re here.’
Kathleen surveyed her image in the mirror over the basins. Her face was pale, so she pinched her cheeks to give them a little colour. Her hair was tidy, thank goodness.
Sam emerged at the same time from the cubicle on the other side. The clerk beckoned to them. ‘Mr Bartholomew says that when you are ready, would you please tap on his office door.’
‘Come in,’ they were told as they knocked. They entered the room and closed the door behind them. Mr Bartholo-mew was a man of indeterminate age, possibly in his early sixties. He was not tall and imposing, but rather tubby and bald, with a watch chain straining across his waistcoat. He stood up and held out his hand to them in turn. He had a deep, pleasant voice. ‘Please sit down. I am happy to see you at last.’
The Winter Baby Page 14
