Fallen Angels

by Val Wood

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Johnny located Billy Fowler living in a run-down dilapidated cart shed which was teetering on the edge of the low cliff just outside Seathorne on the Waxholme road. He’d whistled as he approached to warn the man of his presence. Fowler came to the door. He had a sack draped round his shoulders and his breeches hung loosely on his legs.

  ‘Who are you?’ he bellowed. ‘Don’t come any nearer. You can’t turn me out. Place was empty when I came.’

  ‘I haven’t come to turn you out,’ Johnny said. ‘Isn’t it dangerous here? You’re right on ’edge.’

  Fowler gave a crafty grin. ‘Aye, I know. But I’m not paying rent and besides, ’sea don’t want me. I was saved afore when I went ower. I’ll not drown,’ he crowed.

  ‘What ’you living on?’ Johnny was puzzled. There was no garden, nothing growing, no pigs or hens. ‘What do you do for food?’

  Fowler’s eyes narrowed. ‘What’s it to do wi’ you? Who are you anyway?’

  ‘Johnny Leigh-Maddeson. Lily’s husband. I wasn’t killed. I was captured.’

  Fowler hugged his sack closer to him. ‘Ha! Well, I don’t want her. You can have her back.’ He sniggered. ‘If you can find her.’

  Johnny came closer. Fowler was unshaven and his beard was matted and dirty; his hair was long and greasy, hanging down into his neck. ‘I’ve found her, no thanks to you. You left her to perish, her and my bairns. Shame on you! You’re a blackguard, Fowler, and deserve to rot in jail.’

  ‘It’ll be her that’ll go to jail,’ Fowler retaliated. ‘She shouldn’t have married me if you was still alive. She’s a bigamist, that’s what!’

  ‘And you’re a cur.’ Johnny felt his anger rising. ‘You took her to town and sold her. You’re not fit to breathe, you heathen.’

  Fowler scoffed. ‘She weren’t worth much. I onny got ten bob for her.’

  Johnny launched himself at him, pulling him out of the doorway. ‘She was carrying your child and you left her and Daisy to fend for themselves. What kind o’ man are you, for God’s sake?’

  ‘Gerroff me! Leave me alone.’ Fowler struggled out of Johnny’s grasp. ‘I don’t want anybody. Don’t need anybody. You can have her and your whining daughter and recklin’ son.’

  Johnny punched him on the nose, making him stagger against the door. ‘That’s just for starters,’ he warned him. ‘I’ll be back wi’ ’constable and I’m mekking a charge against you for ill-treating a pregnant woman.’

  He walked away back along the crumbling cliff top, dodging and striding over the cracks and fissures. He was seething but undecided about Lily’s position, not wanting to make things worse for her. Was she a bigamist or would she be excused? She had, after all, written to the army and been told that to the best of their knowledge he had been killed.

  I can’t let Fowler get away with this, he fumed, and it seems to me that he’s not right in his head. What’s he living on out here? Is he stealing food? Begging? There were but few cottages in Waxholme and he thought it unlikely that any of the tenants would have food to spare for Fowler. He’s going to fall off the edge anyway, he thought. The cliffs are low, but on a high tide he could be swept away. He looked down. The sea was battering the base of the cliff and a wind was getting up. ‘Aye,’ he muttered. ‘Mebbe ’sea’ll get him and that’ll be ’answer to all our problems.’

  But as the night drew on the wind blew stronger and the rain came down, and he pondered on Fowler’s situation. He and Ted were staying at the hostelry in Hollym. Johnny had a few plans in his head after talking to his son, but he couldn’t settle whilst he had Fowler on his mind.

  ‘I’m going out,’ he said, after they’d eaten supper. ‘I’m going to tek a walk.’

  ‘It’s chucking it down, Da. You’ll get soaked.’ Ted was content. He’d had a good supper and had been listening to some of the old men in the inn telling their stories, and watching them play dominoes. ‘Do you want me to come wi’ you?’ he asked reluctantly.

  ‘No. I want to think. I want to think on what’s best to do.’

  Ted gazed at his father. ‘Ma’ll come round, you know,’ he said. ‘She was allus talking about you when me and Daisy were little. About what we’d do when you came home.’ He sighed. ‘That was afore Fowler, though.’

  ‘Aye, well, things are different now,’ Johnny said, putting on his top coat. ‘I won’t be long. I’m just going to get a breath o’ sea air.’

  ‘You’re not going down to ’sea, are you?’ Ted frowned. ‘It’s blowing a gale.’

  ‘I might,’ Johnny said. ‘Don’t worry.’ He grinned at his anxious son. ‘I know how to tek care of myself.’

  ‘Aye.’ Ted grinned back. ‘I heard tell you could.’ He was very proud of his soldier father, never tiring of hearing of his exploits.

  Johnny strode across the fields of Hollym, treading the path that he and Lily used to take when they were young. There was a moon but the cloud was thick and black, hiding its brightness, and now and again he stumbled and slid on the muddy ground. Eventually he came to the cliff edge and walked along it, past the darkened windows of Withernsea village and towards Seathorne.

  The sea raged below him, crashing against the cliff. He felt the sharp salt spray on his face as well as the drenching rain and kept well back from the edge, but still the ground was cracked and broken and he fell several times. What in heaven’s name made Lily come out here to live? he wondered. She must have been desperate, or else Billy Fowler spun a cock and bull tale about his life. He kept on walking, through the village and on towards the Waxholme road to where Fowler was living.

  Why am I here? If he goes over the edge, good riddance! But there was something about the man that aroused, not exactly pity, but an unease as to his state of mind. Ted had confessed to his feeling of guilt when he’d seen Fowler go over, and Johnny too felt a clawing of his conscience at having wished the man dead just to solve his own problems. But even if he was dead, Lily might not want me back, he thought regretfully. I’ve failed her. I did what I wanted and not what was best for us both.

  As he approached the cart shed he saw that part of the roof had blown off and there was only a thin strip of land in front of the door, barely wide enough to stand on. He must have moved out. He can’t surely still be living there.

  ‘Fowler!’ he shouted. ‘Fowler! Are you there?’

  A figure shrouded in sacks emerged from round the back. ‘What do you want? Clear off! This is my property.’

  ‘Are you all right? You ought to leave. It’ll go ower any minute!’

  ‘Who’s that? Maddeson? Is that you again? I telled you to clear off.’

  ‘You should leave,’ Johnny insisted. The gale was so strong he could hardly stand and he was concerned for his own safety as well as Fowler’s.

  ‘Not me!’ Fowler drew back his shoulders and gave a harsh laugh. ‘I telled you last time, ’sea don’t want me. It can come but I won’t drown!’

  To Johnny’s alarm, Fowler put his head down against the wind and battled his way to the front of the shed. ‘Look,’ he shouted, and stretched out his arms, dancing about in a circle. ‘Can’t hurt me!’

  Then, to Johnny’s horror, Fowler pointed both arms in front of him as if preparing to dive. ‘No! Stop!’ Johnny darted towards him. ‘Don’t. You’ll drown. Tide’s running high.’

  ‘Ha! Scared you, didn’t I?’ Fowler took a step backwards. ‘Call yourself a sodger! I could eat you for breakfast and leave room for gruel!’

  ‘Come away. Parish’ll house you,’ Johnny called. ‘You can’t stop there.’

  ‘Mind your own bleeding business,’ Fowler shouted. ‘Get back to that wife o’ yourn. She’ll happen keep your bed warm. If she’s a mind to, that is. She was nivver very willing in that department.’

  Johnny turned and began to walk away. He wasn’t going to listen to Fowler’s abusive language. Let him go hang, or drown, whichever was his preference.

  ‘Hey! Maddeson!’

  Joh
nny kept on walking. He didn’t want to hear.

  ‘Maddeson! You’ll have to buy her back if you want her. Yon fellow paid out good money, even if it didn’t amount to much!’

  Johnny turned, an oath on his lips and his fists clenched. The wind screeched and buffeted him, almost knocking him over, and as he began to walk back towards Fowler he felt the earth tremble beneath his feet. He jumped back, further away from the edge. ‘Fowler,’ he yelled. ‘Don’t be a fool. Cliff’s going.’

  ‘Ha!’ Fowler gave a guffaw and stretched out his arms, shaking his fists at the elements. ‘Can’t get me—’ His bragging outburst abruptly changed to a startled cry as the soft, wet and fissured clay beneath his feet gave way and he began to sway. ‘I’ll not drown,’ he began to shout. ‘Not me. You’ll see.’ But his cries were lost in the shrieking of the gale as he plummeted headlong over the edge into the sea.

  Johnny fell to his knees and gingerly stretched out to look over the edge into the swirling foam which was battering the weakened cliff. Not only was the sea deep but the tide was high, a huge surge rushing towards the cliff. He’ll not get out of that. He peered into the darkness. Though he did last time, so it was said. Then he saw a dark head bobbing in the water and he half rose to his knees. If I had something to throw, a spur, or – he looked towards the battered cart shed. If there was only something – but he felt again a tremble beneath him and instinctively drew back from the edge.

  The cliff slithered slowly downwards and Johnny felt himself falling. He turned tipple tail and grabbed a clump of grass, and leaning backwards dug in his heels, remembering how, on his release from the sepoys, he had tumbled down the mountainside with his hands tied behind him. The clay suddenly stopped on its downward path to the sea and, clawing on the slippery slope, he hastily climbed back up.

  ‘Beggar’s gone,’ he muttered. ‘Can’t see him.’

  The moon slid momentarily from behind the clouds and Johnny keenly scoured the tossing, churning waters. ‘Is that him?’ He saw a dark shape in the water, an arm perhaps, well away from the shore; then it was gone. He saw it once more for barely a second before the moon disappeared again, leaving only blackness and a dark foaming sea.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  It was early May. In the countryside, the hawthorn was covered in white blossom, clumps of cowslips carpeted the drain banks, birds were singing and fledglings were stretching their wings in preparation for their first flight, and pale green corn swayed gently.

  In the town of Hull, Lily knew what she was missing, and although she was busy every minute of the day there were times when she caught a scent of the countryside on a breeze, or the briny tang of the sea travelling down the estuary, and pondered on the life she was leading now. Events had moved fast since she had once more knocked on the door of Hope House, asking for shelter and a chance of work.

  It was twelve months since she had been abandoned in this town which was no longer strange to her, but on the contrary, now that she was no longer without hope, felt almost like home. Mrs Thompson had agreed to take her and Daisy in for a short time only, for, as she explained, this was a place of refuge for fallen women. ‘And you and Daisy,’ she gently explained, ‘are not in that category.’

  Lily had told her that she wanted to help young women in unfortunate circumstances and Mrs Thompson had told her of their efforts to find money for a second house. ‘But there is none at present. Should it ever materialize, then I would certainly recommend that you be offered the position of housekeeper.’

  For a month, Lily and Daisy had worked for their keep, hoping that they wouldn’t be turned away when young street women came begging for shelter. ‘Winter is the time when they start arriving in large numbers,’ Mrs Thompson had said. ‘They think they can survive during autumn, but once the cold weather starts they have second thoughts.’

  But Lily recalled that it was spring when she, Lizzie and Cherie had found their way to Hope House.

  Johnny had written to her care of Rena, whose address he had remembered, telling her of Billy Fowler’s death. His body had been washed up at Spurn Point. We know for sure he’s dead this time, he wrote. John Ward identified him. He told me that Fowler had been caught stealing his eggs. He must have eaten them raw for there was no sign of any fire’s having been lit when they looked at what was left of the barn.

  He’d pleaded with her to forgive him and give him the chance to start their lives again. I’ve got us a little house, he wrote. It’s just outside Hollym. It’s not much at the minute. Needs some work on it, but it’s got land and Ted wants to work it and send stuff to market. He’s a grand lad, Lily. You did a good job on bringing him up, but he still needs his ma, and I need you too.

  Lily had felt a flood of emotion, for she had often thought that she had spoilt Ted and what he needed was a father’s stronger hand. She had written in return to Johnny, and told him that there were others, more unfortunate than him or Ted, whom she wanted to help if she possibly could. She explained that she wasn’t ready to give him a commitment, even though she was probably now legally married to him and he could take her back by force if he wanted.

  He’d immediately sent a terse note, saying that she obviously didn’t know him well enough if she thought he would do that. I love you, Lily, he had added, and I would never again do anything to hurt you.

  There was silence then, with no more letters, and she had begun to wonder if she had done the right thing in turning him down. Just when she was on the edge of indecision, on a cold and wintry morning a fortnight before Christmas, Charles Walker and Dr Fulton had called to see Mrs Thompson to tell her that they had at last found funding to buy the house next door.

  Lily was called in to the discussion and offered the position of house manager. ‘It will be run by committee,’ Dr Fulton explained. ‘It will be a house of charity, though,’ he hastened to say, ‘our benefactor, who has chosen to remain anonymous, requests that it be called Amber House.’

  ‘An odd kind of name,’ Mrs Thompson said. ‘But he is entitled to call it whatever he wants. I assume it is a gentleman, and not a lady of means?’

  Charles Walker had interceded. ‘A male, certainly, but we are pledged to silence on the matter, Mrs Thompson. Mrs Maddeson.’ He turned to Lily. ‘We would be honoured if you would agree to serve on the committee. As manager you will be in the best position to know what is required.’

  In some astonishment she had accepted, and wondered what kind of fate it was that had turned her from a madam in a brothel to a manager in a house of charity.

  Amber House was now up and running and the official opening was to be performed by the Chief Magistrate of Hull the following week. One of the first young women to ask for admittance had been Angelina, who had appeared on the doorstep with a cut lip and a black eye. At Lily’s suggestion, after she had recovered from her ordeal, Charles Walker had taken her to see his wife, who had now recovered from her breakdown and was ready to accept Angelina as her maid. They’re well suited, Lily thought. They will understand each other, and now that Oliver is going away Mrs Walker won’t consider her a threat.

  Lily had sought out Mrs Flitt at the workhouse and found the old woman at low ebb. ‘I miss all of you,’ she’d said. ‘You’ve been like family.’

  ‘So would you come and join us at Amber House?’ Lily asked her. ‘I have a job for you and you can have a bed in one of the attic rooms.’

  Mrs Flitt didn’t need to be asked twice. ‘I’m ready,’ she said. ‘Nowt to tek.’ She was now in charge of cleaning the steps and windows at both houses, and running errands when needed.

  As for Jamie, Lily had occasionally caught a glimpse of him, but whenever he saw her he scuttled out of sight, disappearing round a corner or into a doorway.

  Charles Walker had requested a few words with Lily one day regarding Daisy. She was curious and wondered if he was going to suggest that Amber House was an unsuitable home for a girl of tender years. Lily had in fact given some thought to the matter
already, but Daisy didn’t mix with the residents and spent much time next door with Mrs Thompson organizing her paperwork or helping in the kitchen.

  ‘I do hope you will forgive my intrusion on what is after all a personal matter, Mrs Maddeson,’ he said. ‘But I wonder if you have given any thought to furthering Daisy’s education.’

  ‘Why, no,’ she said, surprised. ‘Daisy did go to school in our village and did very well, but after we moved to Seathorne she didn’t attend very often. It seemed as if she wanted to stay by me.’

  ‘She’s a very bright child,’ Charles Walker said, ‘and I think you should consider allowing her some private tuition.’

  ‘Goodness!’ Lily exclaimed. ‘But wouldn’t that cost a good deal of money? And what would she do with extra education? She’s a girl. There aren’t ’same opportunities for a girl as there are for a boy.’

  Charles Walker smiled. ‘For some there are. She could be a teacher. She could be a scientist.’

  ‘A scientist! Surely not!’

  ‘Opportunities are opening up for women; there are female doctors, female inventors, women in industry. Sadly, many have to hide behind their husbands’ names, but the time will come when they will be completely independent.’

  Lily had stared at him. ‘And you think that Daisy …’

  He’d nodded. ‘I don’t see why not. I saw her potential when she came to live with us.’

  ‘I’ll have to write to her da,’ she murmured. ‘See if he’s got any money.’ Though she was getting a salary as house manager, it wasn’t enormous.

  Charles Walker had raised his eyebrows at that and Lily frowned. ‘What?’ she said. ‘Oh. You think I should make ’decision?’

  He hadn’t answered, only smiled, and she took it as a challenge. Why shouldn’t Daisy be educated ’same as a lad, she’d thought, and I’ll pay for it.