by Nancy Revell
Mr Havelock surveyed the room and was heartened by all the shocked faces.
Pearl took a deep breath. It was time. She stood, straightening herself up to her full five feet. Everyone looked at her. Since walking into the house, she had not uttered a single word.
‘Like yer just said, time’s gerrin’ on,’ she began, ‘so I’ll not fanny around ’n use ten words when one’ll dee.’ Her focus was on Charles. She battered back the image of his face that night. ‘Yer’ve raped God knars how many young girls – like yer did me – girls who had nothing ’n no one. Yer hurt those yer knew damn well couldn’t fight back. Yer took what wasn’t yers ’n yer ruined lives.’
Her eyes were boring into him. ‘Remember Gracie? … Nah, course not, they must’ve all merged into one. Well, yer mightn’t be able to remember her, but her mam ’n dad remember you – remember how their girl came to this house to work, all happy as Larry ’cos she’d got a job as a chambermaid, thought she might even end up a lady’s maid fer the mistress if she worked hard. But she left, didn’t she? Shortly before I got took on.’
She stopped. ‘But I’m getting ahead of myself here.’ She looked around. It seemed that everyone had turned to statues and it was only her and Charles in the room.
‘Yer did the same to Gracie as yer did to me, and like me, Gracie ended up with yer bastard growing in her belly. Aye – yer’ve gorra son ’n all.’
She took a deep breath. ‘Her mam ’n dad weren’t sure whether their Gracie did what she did ’cos of what yer did to her, or ’cos she had to give the bab up ’n it broke her heart, but a few months after she gave up the poor little mite, Gracie’s mam came back one day from the shops ’n found her hanging from the bannister. Poor woman went grey overnight. She said she’d be happy for the truth to come out. Yer see, sometimes things happen to a person ’n they don’t care any more. About anything.’
The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. ‘But I’m digressing,’ she said. ‘We were talking about my girl Maisie, weren’t we?’ Pearl kept her focus on Charles.
‘She told me yer’d wanted to join the club – that she turned yer down – said the thought of having yer there, knowing what yer did to me ’n other young girls, made her feel sick. She knew, though, that yer’d try ’n get yer own back –’cos that’s what people like yer are like. She knew there was a good chance yer’d find out about Lily’s place when yer started poking yer nose around, ’n that yer’d probably try ’n use it as some kind of leverage.’
She surveyed the room. ‘Well, I saw her this morning ’n she said to tell yer that if yer want to grass them all up, that’s fine by them, most of them would ger off with a slap on the wrists ’n some sort of paltry fine, but if yer did gan ahead ’n dob them all in it, then Lily’s little black book, which isn’t so little by all accounts, will also find its way into the hands of the police. And that every one of those businessmen, judges, lawyers ’n high-up coppers in that little black book will know that it’s yer fault that their names are being chalked up on some blackboard in police headquarters – that it’s yer fault they’re being pulled in for solicitation, yer fault they’re the laughing stock of the upper crust, yer fault their wives sent them packing.
‘So,’ Pearl said, looking at her watch, ‘yer give Isabelle … yer give my daughter – and I say my daughter ’cos she’s not yers, never was ’n never will be – yer’ll give her what she wants ’n we’ll call it quits.’
She looked at the old man.
‘Forgive me if we dinnit shake on it. We’ll just take each other’s word for it. Agreed?’
Mr Havelock looked at the woman he remembered well as a fifteen-year-old. She was wrong to say they all merged into one. He remembered them all.
‘Agreed?’ It was Helen.
Mr Havelock looked at the Judas in the family. ‘Agreed.’
He said the word through clenched teeth, glowering at Pearl. The bitch might have got the better of him today, but there was always tomorrow. He would not be defeated. Not by the likes of her.
Pearl turned as though to walk away but stopped suddenly in her tracks.
‘Bloody Nora,’ she said, smacking her hand on her forehead, ‘I’d forget my head if it was loose.’
She looked at Mr Havelock. She dropped the faux joviality. Her face was now deathly serious. ‘I nearly forgot to tell yer that Henrietta says to wish yer a Merry Christmas.’
Mr Havelock stared at Pearl.
She saw for the first time a glimmer of fear in his eyes, making every sickening second of being back in this house worth it. She looked away and towards the other end of the room. ‘Eddy! Me ’n Isabelle will have our coats now, thank yer very much.’
Mr Havelock made to get out of his chair.
‘What do you mean, Henrietta says Merry Christmas?’ He glanced nervously over at Miriam, who returned an equally worried look.
Pearl laughed. ‘Honestly, sometimes yer educated folk can be really thick.’ She laboured over each word. ‘Henrietta. Says. Merry. Christmas.’
Eddy had come back into the room with both coats.
Pearl copied her daughter from earlier and stood with her back to Eddy while he helped her into her still-damp coat. He had purposely not put it on the radiator to dry.
‘Well,’ Mr Havelock said, still not sure if Pearl was bluffing and hoping to God she was, ‘I didn’t know the dead spoke. Unless you’ve been to some sort of seance.’ He forced a laugh.
‘I think yer well knar that yer wife is alive – and very well, actually. Yer daughter will confirm that, won’t yer, Miriam? Yer ma’s making much more sense lately. Very coherent. Henrietta was telling me all about her new doctor. Some skinny woman with a strange surname.’ She pretended to think for a moment, enjoying the looks of growing horror on both their faces. ‘Eris … that’s the one. Dr Eris.’
‘What – you mean Grandma’s alive?’ Helen was gob-smacked. She looked at her mother and then at her grandfather. And what was this about her being looked after by Dr Eris?
‘Not that anyone knows who Henrietta is,’ Pearl said. ‘I think yer’ll find yer grandda made her into a “Miss” and gave her the name “Girling”.’
Pearl looked at Bel and gave her the briefest of smiles.
‘I knar what yer all thinking. How did I find out that Henrietta was not just alive, but holed up in the local loony bin? Well, a little bit like the master here,’ Pearl said the word in a tone that could only be described as contemptuous, ‘it was completely by chance. Some might say it was divine intervention; I think it was probably just coincidence. But whatever it was, me ’n Henrietta were reunited. Fancy that, eh?’
She looked at Eddy and Agatha standing in the open doorway. Agatha’s chin was practically touching the floor.
‘And once we’d been reacquainted …’ she paused ‘… the mistress showed herself as having a good memory. Very good indeed. Recognised me straight away, she did.’ She paused again. ‘You see, I’d always wondered – did Henrietta knar what was going on under this roof?’
Pearl’s attention was back on Mr Havelock. ‘Over the years, I’ve wondered if perhaps she was as sick in the head as yer are ’n if she was gerrin’ the maids fer yer – to keep yer happy. I even wondered if she did it so that yer wouldn’t start on yer own daughters, ’cos let’s face it, we all looked like them, didn’t we?’
Pearl looked at Miriam. She had gone a ghostly shade of grey.
‘But Henrietta didn’t knar, did she? Not fer a good while – she’s the kind of person doesn’t like to think anything bad, lives with her head up in the clouds most of the time, or in some book. It might have taken the mistress a bit longer than it would’ve done most, but she eventually worked it out … Ahh, the irony of it all. Henrietta was gerrin’ maids that looked like her two girls ’cos she missed them – missed her two daughters, what with them always being away at some posh school. But, dear, dear, when she realised she’d been bringing yer prey on a silver platter, she was not pleased �
� not pleased at all.’
Pearl was staring at Mr Havelock. Now she had forced herself to face him, she couldn’t take her eyes off him.
‘She found out what yer were deeing, told yer she knew, said she was gonna blow the whistle on yer – yer must have got quite a shock. Talk about the worm turning.’
Pearl looked round at her audience – all speechless.
‘So, what did yer dee? Yer banged her up so she wouldn’t spill the beans on yer, didn’t yer?’
Her eyes fell on Miriam.
‘Yer da got yer ma locked up, pet, which, let’s face it, was easily enough done. She was naturally short of a slice or two, but she was no madwoman. She’d never have hurt a fly. But yer father here –’ she nodded in disgust at the head of the table ‘– greased the necessary palms. Gor her taken away. And, it gans without saying, no one would believe the word of a madwoman over that of Mr Charles Havelock. Especially when he was dangling a large cheque in front of them like a big fat juicy carrot, with more on the horizon if they played ball.’
‘Did you, Father?’ Miriam’s voice was uncannily low. ‘Did you get Mother locked up?’
‘Well, yer’ll be able to ask her for yerself now, pet,’ Pearl butted in. ‘She’s singing like a bird, although at the moment she’s just singing to me and one other person who shall remain nameless. Of course, I can always ask her to keep it to herself for the time being. We’ve become quite the chums, me ’n Henrietta.’
Pearl buttoned up her coat. The show was just about over.
Bel took the cue and stood up. Her mother had played her winning hand – and what a hand it was.
‘So, we’ll just see how things pan out, eh?’ Pearl said.
She looked at Mr Havelock and then Miriam, before addressing Helen.
‘I’m really looking forward to meeting yer da, pet. Sounds like a lovely man. I’ll let him settle in first, though. He’s got so much catching up to dee with little Hope, bless her.’
She gave Mr Havelock one last look before turning and walking out of the dining room with her daughter by her side.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
As they turned right out of the driveway and started along Glen Path, neither woman spoke for a short while. Bel looked up at the black skeleton arms of the trees lining the road, their ghoulishness redeemed by the glistening frost and the patches of fresh snow that seemed to illuminate the darkness.
They walked on through the snow. It was sparkling white. A fresh layer had covered the icy grey slush they had trudged through on the way there.
‘Why didn’t you tell me about Henrietta?’ Bel said eventually. There were so many questions she wanted to ask, so many things she wanted to say to her ma, she hardly knew where to start.
‘I did tell yer about Henrietta,’ Pearl said.
‘Just that time you’d wandered into her room by mistake,’ Bel said, glancing at her ma. ‘You didn’t say you’d been there to visit her – and frequently, by the sounds of it.’ Suddenly the penny dropped. ‘Of course, your days out with Bill!’ She stared at Pearl. ‘There was us all thinking you two were going out on dates.’
Bel laughed. She felt high. Drunk on all that had taken place.
‘I should have guessed,’ she said as they walked on. ‘Borrowing Agnes’s dress! Eee, Ma, you can be a bit of a dark horse, can’t you?’
Bel was walking fast and Pearl was struggling to keep up. It was as though every ounce of energy had been sapped from her. All she wanted was to be sitting in the Tatham with a large whisky in front of her. She’d definitely earned one.
As they turned left and started walking along The Cedars, they both jumped when they heard a car hoot its horn behind them.
It was Helen in her green sports car.
She pulled over, leant across to the passenger door and opened it.
‘Hop in, you two, this is your sleigh ride back home!’ She too was feeling intoxicated, even though she’d not had a drop to drink.
Pearl jumped in first, not caring that she’d be shoulder to shoulder with the Havelock girl. Bel squeezed in after and pulled the door shut.
As they slowly made their way along the wide, treelined street, then across Ryhope Road and down Villette Road, Pearl’s eye caught a flash of red. It was a robin redbreast and it had settled on the wooden gate to the Barley Mow Park – opposite the street where Gracie’s mam and dad lived.
For the first time, Pearl smiled.
When they turned into Tatham Street, they were surprised to see everyone outside the pub rather than inside in the warmth.
As they got nearer, they saw why – the Salvation Army brass band was blasting out ‘Good King Wenceslas’ and everyone was singing along.
Good King Wenceslas looked out
On the Feast of Stephen,
When the snow lay round about
Deep and crisp and even.
Brightly shone the moon that night,
Though the frost was cruel
When a poor man came in sight,
Gath’ring winter fuel.
As they climbed out of the car, they heard the trumpets and cornets and surprisingly in-tune vocals.
‘Hither, page, and stand by me,
If thou know’st it, telling,
Yonder peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?’
‘Sire, he lives a good league hence,
Underneath the mountain,
Right against the forest fence,
By Saint Agnes’ fountain.’
As the three women crunched through the fresh snow, dodging an energetic snowball fight, they saw that their family and friends were in the crowd.
‘Bring me flesh, and bring me wine,
Bring me pine logs hither,
Thou and I will see him dine,
When we bear them thither.’
Page and monarch, forth they went,
Forth they went together,
Through the rude wind’s wild lament
And the bitter weather.
Polly was standing with Artie, who was so well wrapped up against the cold he looked as if he was in a cocoon. Next to her were Agnes and Beryl, arms linked, and behind them were Iris and Audrey, who were singing their hearts out and smiling at the two Home Guard lads on either side of them.
‘Sire, the night is darker now,
And the wind blows stronger,
Fails my heart, I know not how;
I can go no longer.’
‘Mark my footsteps, my good page,
Tread thou in them boldly,
Thou shalt find the winter’s rage
Freeze thy blood less coldly.’
Toby was standing behind Dorothy, his arms wrapped around her, keeping her warm. Angie was linking arms with Kate, who was standing next to Alfie. Mr Perkins had his arm around Mrs Perkins, and Hannah and Olly were holding gloved hands next to them.
In his master’s steps he trod,
Where the snow lay dinted;
Heat was in the very sod
Which the Saint had printed.
Rosie was standing behind Charlotte and had her hands on her shoulders; both looked happy, very happy. Martha was towering at the back, not wanting to spoil everyone’s view of the smartly decked Christian soldiers who were filling the street with the sound of Christmas.
Gloria was next to her holding a tired-looking Hope, her legs wrapped round her mammy like a monkey. As soon as she spotted her big sister, her little face lit up. Helen hurried over, a little unsteady in her high heels.
Therefore, Christian men, be sure,
Wealth or rank possessing,
Ye who now will bless the poor
Shall yourselves find blessing.
Bel turned when she heard her daughter cry out ‘Mammy!’ and saw Lucille charging towards them. Bending down, she picked up her little girl, gave her a cuddle and put her back down.
‘Nana!’ Lucille looked up at her grandma.
Pearl ruffled her granddaughter’s hair.<
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‘All right, pet,’ she said. ‘Yer had a good Christmas Day?’
Lucille nodded.
‘Eee, well, best get myself a drink before I die of thirst,’ she said, turning to go to the pub.
Bel caught her arm.
‘Thanks, Ma,’ she said.
‘Nowt to thank us fer, Isabelle.’
Bel smiled as she watched her ma make a beeline for the Tatham.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
As soon as Helen had left in her car, Miriam had demanded that the chauffeur, who was meant to be having a day off, drive her to the Grand – drive her anywhere, as long as it was away from the house.
Looking out of the window as they drove down Ryhope Road, she recalled the day her father had told her he had been forced to commit their mother. It had been a shock, but she had not questioned his actions. Why would she? The lie he’d constructed about her mother dying abroad had made sense. They were saving her good name – the family’s good name.
Had her mother really tried to do the right thing and been punished for it?
As they drove into the town centre, she thought of Eddy and Agatha. Had they known? The looks on their faces suggested they had. No, no, no, no, she did not want to think about all of this. But she had to – how could she not? Had a part of her known all along what her father was really like? Was that why she and Margaret had always orchestrated invites to friends’ houses over the holidays, so that they spent as little time as possible at home when their father was there?
God, she wished Margaret lived nearer. She was the only person she would be able to confide in.
As the car pulled up on Bridge Street, Miriam was already planning a trip to her sister’s in the New Year – if not before. Tomorrow even. She needed to get away. Run away.
Her father was a rapist.
A monster who had imprisoned their mother.
And now, to top it all, she would have to face the ridicule of Jack coming back.
