by Anna King
‘Let me see. Here, over here by the fire so I can see better.’ Pushing Ruby gently before her, Daisy went back to the armchair and pressed her into the seat. Ruby slowly rolled down her dirty stocking, unable to look for fear of what she might see. ‘Well, it’s a bit red and slightly swollen, but nothing a cold flannel won’t cure,’ Daisy said brightly.
‘You go on up to your room and I’ll bring some cold water and bathe it for you after I’ve cleared away the dinner plates.’ She stood back and looked at the guilty faces of the three of them, and laughed. ‘Well, that’s two shocks you’ve given me today, and if your father was here, you wouldn’t be getting off so lightly! But seeing as he isn’t, we’ll say no more about it. Now, go to your rooms and study the work I’ve left out for you on your beds for tomorrow. And, Ruby, you pay extra attention to your spelling.’
Glad of the excuse to leave the room, the children filed past Daisy, kissing her on the cheek one by one. Daisy watched them climb the stairs, her mouth open in surprise. They usually set up a howl of protest when told to study on a Sunday evening, believing that they, like the children of well-to-do parents, should be exempt from any form of work on a Sunday.
As Ruby climbed the stairs, Daisy noticed that she was limping, and made a mental note to check on her leg in the morning. Turning back to the table and dirty plates, she gave a long sigh. It seemed as if she spent most of her life washing up after her family. Then, telling herself not to be so lazy, she rolled up her sleeves and set to work.
Chapter Four
‘Morning, Lily.’
‘Morning, Alf. Any letters for the pub?’ Lily pulled her shawl tighter round her shoulders while stamping her feet against the cold November morning.
‘Just the one, for the Guv’nor,’ Alf answered, holding out the long white envelope. ‘I’ll see you, Lily. Keep smiling.’
Lily watched the postman skirt round the old tenement from which she had just come, his round taking him on to the row of open-fronted shops to deliver the rest of his mail. Turning the envelope over, she saw the fine italic writing and felt a sense of pride at being able to read her employer’s name and address. It would be more truthful to say she recognised the collection of letters that made up the wording on the envelope, for Lily had never had the chance to go to school. But on one occasion when she had been sent to fetch Mrs Chadwick from the study where she was teaching the children their lessons, Daisy had asked her if she could read or write. Hanging her head, Lily had admitted that she could do neither, whereupon Daisy had offered to teach her in her spare time. It was then she had shown Lily a similar envelope and told her what the words were. Lily’s dreams of being educated were cut short, however. When Mr Chadwick had found out, he had immediately forbidden his wife to have any personal arrangement with Lily, adding that it would be a waste of time with someone of her class. Pushing open the heavy doors, Lily entered the tap-room.
‘Good morning, Lily.’
‘Good morning, Mr Chadwick. There’s a letter for you,’ Lily answered, holding out the envelope. Bernard waited until it was laid down on the counter before picking it up carefully. Lily noted the movement and turned away before he could see her look of scorn. He could just have easily taken it from her hand, but no, the point must be seen to be made: he was the employer, she was merely the hired help.
‘Miserable old bugger,’ she muttered furiously as she settled herself behind the bar.
Looking up, she saw Jack standing behind Bernard, his head held to one side, his tongue protruding while holding his hand high in the air, imitating a man being hanged. Lily quickly ducked her head, afraid she would burst into laughter and give Jack away, and then the sudden clatter of footsteps overhead told her that the children were already up and about.
‘I have to go out for a while, Jack. If Mrs Chadwick should enquire as to my whereabouts, tell her I had to step out and will be back presently,’ Bernard said, forcing Lily to step back as he swept by her, shrugging himself into his thick warm overcoat, a satisfied look on his normally dour face.
‘He must have got some good news in that letter you gave him, Lily. Maybe you’ve brought him good luck,’ Jack said, smiling.
‘The only luck I’d give ’im is bad,’ Lily turned to face him. ‘The way ’e’s treated those children this last few weeks is awful, poor little mites. Shut in their rooms, only letting them come out for their meals and to use the lav, it’s terrible. ’E’s only ’appy when ’e’s throwing ’is weight abaht. I’d leave today if it wasn’t for Mrs Chadwick, poor cow. If I left, it’d be another worry for ’er, ’cos ’e wouldn’t lower ’imself to ’ire a new girl; finks the likes of me are beneath ’im.’ Stopping for breath, she thought about what she’d just said, then grinned. ”E should be so lucky, eh, Jack?’
The conversation was halted by the arrival of three young students from the nearby London Hospital. As Jack hurried forward to serve them, Lily began to lay out the food Daisy had brought into the pub earlier that morning. While she busied herself, her thoughts returned to the children. Just over three weeks ago the accident had happened, and she had heard all about it from Mrs Chadwick as they had been preparing the food for the evening trade. It was as Lily had been taking a batch of meat pies from the oven that Daisy had started to talk, desperate for someone to confide in. She had told Lily about the story Ruby had concocted in order to save her brothers from punishment and how she had contrived to keep out of her father’s way the following morning. However, Bernard had noticed her limping and had demanded to know what had happened. Ruby had tried to stick to her story, but under Bernard’s insistent questioning she had broken down and admitted the truth. Bernard had been all for using the belt on all three of the children, and it was only Daisy’s frantic pleading that had saved them from a beating. Lily’s train of thought was cut short as one of the students detached himself from his friends and made his way down to where she stood.
‘Hello, Lily. Could I have one of your meat pies, please?’ the young man said shyly.
Lily snapped out of her daydream to serve the young man. Aware of his admiring glance, a smile came to her lips, and for a while the children were forgotten.
* * *
‘May I have some more bread please, Mother?’
Daisy looked at Ruby’s white, pinched, face, her normally lively personality dampened by Bernard’s presence, and felt anger bubble to the surface. Casting a reassuring smile at Ruby as she handed over the plate of bread and butter, Daisy shot a look of pure venom in Bernard’s direction, but the gesture was wasted. Ever since he had returned from his mysterious walk that morning, he had been going around with a self-satisfied look on his face. When she had enquired the reason for the sudden miraculous transformation, he had merely shrugged and told her to bide her time, he would tell her when he was ready. Rising from the table, she walked into the scullery on the pretext of fetching some more bread, but, once outside, she leaned over the sink and rinsed her face in cold water. She must stand up to him; she must.
All their married life she had done what he had told her to do without complaint; up to a point, for she wasn’t a servile woman, no, never servile. She shook her head at the notion. She wasn’t afraid to stand up to him about certain matters, but she had always relied on him to make the decisions about the children’s welfare and discipline. When they had first married, he had assumed responsibility for their financial matters without consulting her, and she had been only too pleased to find she had married a strong man, someone who would look after her and shield her from the unpleasantness of the world. Then, when Bertie had been born, Bernard had taken responsibility for him, instructing Daisy as to when she should pick him up and when he should be left to cry, and Daisy had complied because she thought he knew best, even though it had torn at her heart to hear Bertie screaming for attention. She would make to rise, and then, catching Bernard’s disapproving look, would slowly sit down again, her eyes filling with tears. It had been the same with Ruby and George, b
ut she was no longer the dewy-eyed girl he had married 14 years ago. The last few years had seen a marked change in her character, so that no longer would she meekly do as she was told without question. The time had come to make a stand.
The first thing she must do was to insist that a doctor be brought in to look at Ruby’s leg. Although Ruby claimed that the leg didn’t hurt, she knew better. The child had been listless for the past week, picking at her food and falling asleep at odd moments during the day, which was totally unlike her. Passing a hand over her forehead, Daisy experienced a moment of physical weakness. How had she let matters come to such a pass? She should have put her foot down on that same day she had fought with Bernard for the belt, and she should have sent for the doctor immediately, but the years of bowing to Bernard’s decisions without question had held her in check. But no more, definitely no more! Straightening her back, she walked into the kitchen, a determined look on her face. The children were waiting patiently for Bernard to finish his dinner so that they could leave the table, he in his turn making them wait as long as possible.
‘If you’ve finished your dinner you may leave the table,’ she said firmly, her eyes directed at the children. Three pairs of eyes looked at her in amazement, but nobody moved. ‘I said you may leave the table, children.’ Her voice brooked no argument, but still they hesitated, their eyes going to where Bernard was sitting reading his daily paper.
The air was filled with tension until Ruby pushed her chair away from the table and stood up, her hands resting on the table so that she shouldn’t have to put pressure on her bad leg. Bertie and George looked at each other, not knowing what to do, the atmosphere charged with an emotion they were as yet too young to understand. Then, very slowly, Bertie rose and stood by Ruby’s side, his hand going out to steady her. George remained sitting, his blue eyes filling with tears, his young mind unable to take in what was happening. The room was deathly quiet except for the sound of George softly crying. Daisy came round to his side and gently helped him up from his chair.
Bernard sat still, his face showing no sign of the anger that was building in him. How dared she usurp his authority in front of the children in this way! What had come over the woman? Well, he would soon put a stop to it; no one was going to make him look a fool, especially not his wife. Lifting his head, he looked at the children standing together in a cluster, and then at Daisy, who had aligned herself with them, and for a moment he felt a pang of shame that they should be so afraid of him, but the moment didn’t last. Without moving, he said quietly but firmly, ‘Sit down. You will wait until I give you permission to leave the table and not before.’
‘No, Mother said we could leave.’
Bernard looked up in amazement at Ruby, with her face flushed, her eyes challenging him, and for a moment he wavered. For the first time in many a long year he felt himself at a disadvantage. He couldn’t forcibly push them back into their seats without losing dignity, but this open show of defiance was not to be tolerated. Getting to his feet, he faced them again, his face filled with anger. ‘I said sit down. I am your father, and you will obey me.’
Still nobody moved until Daisy moved forward, her body shielding the children from his rage. ‘Go to your rooms, children. I will be up presently,’ she said quietly, her eyes never leaving Bernard’s face.
Ruby let go of the table and caught hold of Bertie’s arm as he led her from the room, with George following them, still crying. Bernard watched them go, his face filled with disbelief that they had so openly defied him and sided with their mother. He was about to spring forward, but the look on Daisy’s face stopped him in mid-flight. He could only watch helplessly as the children ascended the stairs with Ruby still hanging on to Bertie’s arm to take the weight off her bad leg. As she hopped up the stairs, Bernard felt a stab of fear run through his body. She was really hurt; her leg must be much worse than she had let on or she wouldn’t be hobbling like that, for Ruby would never try to elicit sympathy, it wasn’t in her nature.
‘Sit down, Bernard. It’s time we had a long talk; a talk, I may add, that’s long overdue.’ Daisy was now seated, her face calm but determined.
With as much dignity as he could muster, he replied stiffly, ‘I’ll stand, if you don’t mind.’
‘Oh, I don’t mind, Bernard, but you may be grateful for the armchair by the time I’ve finished what I have to say.’
Bernard tried one more time to regain control of the situation. Squaring his shoulders, he jutted his chin, his faced suffused with colour. ‘Now look here, Daisy, I won’t have…’
‘Sit down, Bernard.’
Bernard sat.
‘First of all I am calling in a doctor to see Ruby. I should have done it when the accident first happened, and it was an accident, Bernard, not a deliberate attempt to flout your authority as you seem to think. I would ask you to go to the children and apologise for the unnecessary harsh treatment they have had to endure over the past three weeks, but I know you would never admit to being wrong.’ Daisy sat forward in her chair, her eyes never leaving Bernard’s face. ‘Why can’t you unbend a little, Bernard? I know from the little you’ve told me about your childhood that your father was a very hard man and that he was often cruel to you. That being the case, surely you of all people should know what it’s like to live in fear of your own father?’
At the mention of his father, Bernard started, the muscles in his face twitching nervously as he tried to regain his composure. Rising from the armchair, he stared down at Daisy, and in a voice that was devoid of any emotion, said coldly, ‘That will be enough, Daisy. If you insist on getting a doctor in to Ruby, then do so. I don’t see the necessity for such an action. If I had, I would have done so myself. Ruby has told us that the kick barely caught her leg, but I can see it’s no good arguing with you in your present state of mind. I would also ask you to refrain from talking about my father: that part of my life is over and I have no wish to be reminded of it. Now, if you will excuse me, I have business to see to.’
As he walked from the room, Daisy slumped with relief. Her whole body was trembling and she felt sick, but she had won the first round. She would ask Lily to go for the doctor in the morning. Maybe Bernard was right and she was worrying unnecessarily, but she had to make sure. Rising shakily from the table, she began to collect the dishes. Yes, the first round had gone to her, but there were many still to go, and she would face them one at a time.
Chapter Five
‘Evening, Guv’nor. Got any meat pies going? I’ve just finished work an’ I could eat an ’orse!’ The shabbily-dressed man smiled at Bernard, eager to strike up a conversation, but his hopes were quickly dashed.
‘Go down to the end of the bar and ask the girl serving there,’ Bernard answered curtly. He was still seething with rage at the loss of face he had suffered. It had been nearly four hours since his altercation with Daisy and the children, but the humiliation still rankled.
The smile dropped swiftly from the man’s face, and as he walked away he called over his shoulder, ‘A little bit of kindness never ’urt nobody. You should remember that, you miserable sod!’
Resisting the urge to throw the man out, Bernard called Jack over. ‘I’m taking a short break, Jack. If things get too busy, I’ll be in the hallway.’
Without waiting for an answer, Bernard made his way down the bar and out of the side door that led to the small square hallway. Conscious that Daisy was only a few feet away behind the kitchen door, he sat down on the chair by the hall table and took from his pocket the letter he had been carrying around since that morning. Pulling the lamp nearer to him, he smoothed the crumpled paper and re-read the words he had memorised by heart.
Dear Bernard,
It is with great sadness that I write to inform you that our father is dying. I am sure that under the circumstances you will put all the bitterness behind you and make your peace with Father before it is too late.
Your affectionate brother,
David
; Reading the last few words, Bernard gave a ‘Huh’ of a laugh.
‘Affectionate brother’, indeed! Where had he been the last 14 years? The anger that had long been simmering inside him rose to the surface, and he crushed the letter into a tight ball.
He could remember the exact circumstances that had led to the estrangement. It had been on his wedding day, when he had taken his father to one side and told him about the pub he had leased from the brewery, and the career he had marked out for himself. The plans he had kept so secret, wanting to impress his father with his initiative, had come tumbling out as he had earnestly explained that it was only a start, that within a few years he would have made enough money to move to a bigger and better establishment. He had spoken the same words to his father as he had to Daisy, but the reactions had been vastly different. Whereas Daisy had clung to his every word, her eyes shining with love and admiration, the look in his father’s eyes had chilled him to the bone. He could still see the veiled look of contempt on his face, hear the disparaging note in his voice. ‘You, make a success of anything?’ he had said quietly, making Bernard’s stomach lurch with fear and apprehension. He had remembered as a small boy running for his father’s approval, only to be met with the same contemptuous reception. He had stared at his father for a long time before turning on his heel and marching back to the wedding party, where Daisy was waiting for him. His father and David had left shortly afterwards, and he had never seen either of them since.
There had been no communication for nearly two years, and then Bertie had been born. As he’d looked down on his first-born son and felt him grip his finger, all the hate he had felt for his father had vanished. Eagerly he had written to inform him of his new grandson and sent a beautifully embossed invitation to the christening. On the day, he had stood outside the church waiting for a sign of his father’s coach and horses, nervous at the prospect of meeting him again. His eyes had scanned the road until Daisy had come out from the church and led him gently back inside. Since then there had been nothing, not even from his brother. ‘Your affectionate brother, David.’ He said the words quietly. That his brother was a weak man he had always known, but he had hoped that he would have had enough backbone to stand up to their father and visit him and his family.
