by Dilly Court
‘We’re married, aren’t we?’ Tilly backed towards the narrow bed, slowly undoing the buttons on her wedding dress. ‘It ain’t legal unless we con-consume it.’
‘Consummate, my love.’ Barney shrugged off his jacket. ‘Well, maybe we ought – just to keep things legal. But when you’re calling out to God, can you make it sound as if you’re saying your prayers? Just for Frank’s sake.’
Chapter Fifteen
Tilly awakened next morning in the truckle bed, having spent her wedding night alone. Missing Barney was a physical thing; she felt cold and empty inside, as if her heart had been ripped out of her breast. Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine that he was lying beside her in the feather bed at the Savoy, but the reality was a hard flock mattress and a lumpy pillow in a small, dingy room at the back of a shabby lodging house. Vowing that she would not allow herself to cry, Tilly decided that there was no use in feeling sorry for herself and, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she got up and went to the washstand. The water in the jug was cold but it was refreshing. Washing her face and hands, she dried them on a coarse towel that felt like sandpaper on her soft skin. Her life of luxury had been cut cruelly short, but she must put that behind her and concentrate on the present if she were to survive the long parting from her new husband.
Picking up the wilting spray of gardenias, their once snow-white petals bruised and brown, Tilly held it tenderly to her cheek, inhaling the fading fragrance. Was it only yesterday that she had dressed in her bridal finery and left the elegant Savoy Hotel to travel the short distance to the register office? It seemed like months ago, but the memory of lying in Barney’s arms, the heat of his kisses and the final soaring climax of their lovemaking was indelibly imprinted in her memory. She dressed with care, selecting one of the plainer white blouses that Barney had bought for her and a pale blue linen skirt, cut in the latest fashion, very full at the back and flat at the front, just grazing the top of her white kid boots. There was no mirror in the room and she brushed her thick, straight hair back from her face, securing it at the nape of her neck with a large satin bow. Now she felt ready to face Hattie and Francis, as she must learn to call her new sister and brother-in-law. Last night, after Barney had left, the atmosphere had seemed strained and unnatural; Tilly could only hope and pray that things would be easier this morning.
Entering the living room without knocking felt strange in itself, and Tilly had to curb the instinct to bob a curtsey to Harriet who was sitting at the round table in the window, sipping tea. Francis sat opposite her with his head buried in a copy of The Times.
Setting her teacup down, Hattie smiled. ‘Good morning, sister-in-law. Did you sleep well?’
Francis rattled the newspaper and harrumphed.
Pulling a face at the newspaper shield, Hattie smiled as if to say don’t mind him, and motioned Tilly to join them. ‘Come and have some breakfast, Tilly.’
‘Thank you.’ With difficulty, Tilly just stopped herself from adding ‘Miss Hattie’, and glancing nervously at Francis, hiding behind the newspaper, she took a seat at the table. Suddenly she had to speak out. She cleared her throat. ‘I realise that this is difficult for you both but it’s even harder for me. It ain’t – I mean, it’s not easy for me to make the jump from being your servant to being your sister-in-law.’
‘Oh, really, no! You mustn’t feel like that, Tilly.’ Harriet’s smooth brow creased into a frown. ‘We haven’t given it a thought, have we, Francis?’
Francis lowered the paper. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Harriet. Of course it’s difficult. Barney has put us all in a confoundedly awkward situation.’
At least he was being honest and Tilly could not blame him for that; she gave him a straight look, lifting her chin. ‘I understand. I’ll leave this morning so that you won’t be embarrassed by my presence.’
Harriet’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘No, you must not. Francis didn’t mean it.’
‘Yes, he did. And I don’t blame him for it. I know you’re a class or two above me and I don’t fit in here.’
Francis folded the paper with irritable, jerking movements. ‘Then why did you marry my brother?’
‘I love him.’
‘Francis, you’re being terribly unfair.’ Harriet’s lips trembled and her eyes filled with tears. ‘How can you be so beastly to Tilly? If Barney loves her, then we should love her too. You preach Christian charity and love and yet you fail to practise your own dogma. For shame on you.’
‘It’s all right, Hattie.’ Refusing the cup of tea that Harriet was offering her, Tilly got to her feet. ‘I know where I’m not wanted.’
‘I’m sorry, Tilly.’ Francis cleared his throat noisily, a dull flush rising to his pale cheeks. ‘Harriet is right. Of course you must stay, at least until we get our passage to India.’
‘But that’s the answer.’ Harriet’s thoughtful expression changed into a beaming smile. ‘Oh, do sit down, please, Tilly. I’ve had the most marvellous idea.’
Reluctantly, but also with a feeling of relief, Tilly sat down.
‘Don’t look at me like that, Francis,’ Hattie said, wagging her finger at him with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. ‘I do sometimes have a good idea. I shall need a chaperone and companion on the sea voyage to India, and even when we get there I’ll need someone to go out with me when you are busy teaching. Who better than my own sister-in-law?’
‘Me, a chaperone?’ Noting the stunned expression on Francis’s face, Tilly couldn’t help wondering which one of them was the more startled by the idea that she would make a suitable chaperone.
‘Well.’ Francis gulped and swallowed, nodding his head slowly. ‘It’s certainly a thought to bear in mind.’
‘And,’ Harriet continued, smiling happily, ‘Tilly will be much nearer to Barney and already in the country when he sends for her.’
‘India is a big place.’ Francis did not look convinced.
‘Oh, Francis, don’t be difficult.’ With a merry chuckle, Harriet wrinkled her nose at him. ‘We must start making plans now, Tilly. We need to make a list of all the clothes we’ll need for such a hot climate.’
‘My dear Harriet, I’m not made of money,’ Francis protested. ‘Don’t forget that we lost everything in that dreadful fire.’
‘Then I shall have to write to Dolph and tell him that you are taking me to a foreign country with barely a rag to wear.’
‘I’m going to teach in a missionary school. You won’t be attending many social functions or balls at Government House.’
‘Then I’ll end up an old maid,’ Harriet said, pouting. ‘You’ll be saddled with me for the rest of your life, Francis. See how you like that.’
Sensing that the argument was about to escalate into a pitched battle, Tilly cleared her throat simply to attract their attention. ‘If I might make a suggestion, Barney left me with a little money. Hattie and me could go to the market in Petticoat Lane; they sell real good stuff there. You’d never know the clothes was second-hand.’
If she had suggested that his sister should go stark naked, Francis could not have looked more appalled. For a moment, Tilly thought he was going to reprimand her severely, but he seemed to check himself and even managed a tight little smile.
‘I appreciate your offer, but that won’t be necessary. All right, Harriet, I’ll give you a dress allowance, but I’m warning you: don’t overspend or you’ll have me to answer to.’
If living with Francis in her role as his sister-in-law was difficult, then Tilly found it was the reverse with Harriet, who openly and sincerely revelled in their new relationship. Strangely enough, it was Mrs Henge who proved to be the most obdurate in her refusal to acknowledge Tilly’s new status, refusing to call her madam or Mrs Palgrave. If Tilly attempted to pass on an order for breakfast or dinner, Mrs Henge would be temporarily afflicted with deafness, a condition that did not resolve until Harriet ventured down to the kitchen to repeat the request. When Tilly attempted to have it out with her, the dragon-woman ad
opted a sullen, set face and a stubborn silence.
Francis remained polite but aloof and Tilly always had the uncomfortable feeling that, beneath his rigid mask of self-control, he was inwardly seething with anger at both herself and Barney for putting him in this position. Sometimes she found herself also blaming Barney for leaving her so abruptly and without any means of support. He had left her with two golden sovereigns, explaining that it was all the money he had on him and Tilly had been angry, accusing him of extravagance and over-tipping at the hotel. Barney had silenced her with a kiss, promising to make arrangements for her to receive an army wife’s allotment; it had not come yet, but Tilly trusted him. Of course she did, or that is what she kept telling herself. It was Francis who kept reminding her pointedly that she had not contributed to the housekeeping.
It was now Tilly’s single-minded ambition to join her husband in India. When Harriet was otherwise engaged, Tilly often walked from Shoreditch to the Guildhall Library and reading room, where she devoured all the literature she could find on the magic, mystic land of her dreams.
As soon as Harriet received her allowance from Francis, she was determined to spend every penny on the new clothes necessary for a hot climate and it did not take much persuasion to coax Tilly to accompany her on her first shopping trip. They decided against the cost of a hansom cab and walked to Broad Street where they caught the white Brompton omnibus that took them as far as Piccadilly. They walked up Regent Street, making their first stop at Mr Liberty’s emporium and spent half an hour wandering round the East India department, fingering the exotic prints and silks. Harriet would no doubt have spent every last penny there, but Tilly managed to persuade her to hold on to her money until they had visited the other big stores. After all, she had the advantage of having recently been shopping with Barney and that gave her a distinct edge on Harriet. Eventually they worked their way from Marshall and Snelgrove, John Lewis, Dickins and Jones, Swan and Edgar to D H Evans. Faced with such a splendid array of gowns, undergarments, hats, gloves and shoes, not to mention bolts of chiffon, lace and slipper satin, Harriet seemed to lose every scrap of common sense and would have gone into a shopping frenzy if Tilly had not been there to guide and calm her down. For the first time, as the money began to change hands at an alarming rate, she could see a likeness between Harriet and Barney. Tilly’s hard-nosed East End thrift was sorely tried by Harriet’s seeming inability to say no or to add up pounds, shillings and pence. In the end, they staggered back to Piccadilly Circus so laden with parcels and bandboxes that it was difficult to climb the steps on to the omnibus.
‘I do hope we get home before Francis,’ Harriet said, giggling as they subsided onto their seats beneath a pile of shopping. ‘He’ll have a fit when he sees all this.’
With her more modest purchases of two dress lengths of Indian muslin, two dress lengths of cotton lawn, two pairs of lace mittens and a pair of satin dancing shoes, that were simply too pretty to resist, Tilly’s purse felt much lighter than it had been before and she was consumed with guilt. She had meant to spend her money on presents to give her family when she paid them the visit that she had been putting off for days. She knew she must go and see Ma and Pops and break the news that she had married without their consent. Barney had given her age as twenty-one on the marriage licence, so that she did not need parental consent, although she would not reach her majority until the following May. But it was not the deceit that worried her, it was her parents’ reaction to the fact that she had married above her station, out of her class, and had done it without telling them.
‘Tilly, you’re off in one of your daydreams again.’ Harriet nudged her in the ribs. ‘We’re here.’
Startled out of her thoughts, Tilly struggled to her feet and helped Harriet with her parcels as they negotiated the swaying, jolting stairs of the vehicle to alight in Broad Street.
Luckily for Harriet, Francis had not returned home and she was able to put her purchases away in her wardrobe without his seeing them. They were sitting at the table in the window poring over dress patterns when Francis burst into the room with his normally sombre features split in a huge grin. He waved three pieces of card at them. ‘I’ve got the tickets. Our passage to India is booked and we’re sailing on the sixth of August.’
Jumping to her feet, Hattie threw her arms around his neck. ‘We’re going at last. How splendid.’
Disentangling himself, Francis was still smiling. ‘Well, it is rather. We’re sailing for Bombay on the P & O Steamship Malta. We’ll be travelling on by train to Delhi where we’ll be living in a house close to the mission school. Everything is arranged, down to the last detail.’
Dragging Tilly to her feet, Hattie danced her round the room. ‘Isn’t this spiffing news? Thank goodness we bought all those clothes and dress fabric today.’
Francis let out a long sigh. ‘I hope you haven’t been too extravagant, Hattie.’
‘Who, me? Of course not,’ Harriet said, smiling happily.
With less than a month until their departure date, they had to find a dressmaker who could make up their lengths of material. Harriet had heard of a respectable widow living in Tanner’s Passage, near Billingsgate, who, due to straightened circumstances and with a crippled child to care for, supplemented her income by dressmaking. Mrs Scully proved to be a pleasant, sensible woman who understood their needs, but as time was short she said she could only promise to have a maximum of three gowns ready in the given time. When the measuring was done and the dress patterns discussed, Harriet was eager to return to their lodgings, but Tilly’s conscience had been bothering her for days. They were so close to Red Dragon Passage that there was no excuse for putting off her visit home for a day longer. As Harriet was nervous about negotiating the streets and alleyways in this unfamiliar part of town, Tilly walked with her as far as the Monument and saw her safely onto a horse-drawn omnibus that would take her close to Bunbury Fields. Counting the coins in her purse, Tilly decided that she would spend the money on small gifts for the family, and walk the rest of the way home. Perhaps she was just putting off the inevitable, or maybe she was genuinely saving her pennies, she didn’t know; but for the first time in her life, Tilly was apprehensive about telling Ma and Pops what she had done.
Nellie stared at her present, a pair of woollen gloves that Tilly had purchased in Petticoat Lane.
‘Don’t you like them, Ma?’
Setting them carefully on the table, Nellie raised her eyes to Tilly’s face. ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’
Staring down at her hands clasped tightly on her lap, Tilly shrugged her shoulders. ‘It all happened so quickly.’
‘Too quickly if you want my opinion, miss. And it weren’t legal without our consent. You’re not twenty-one yet.’
‘Ma, don’t be angry. I love Barney and he loves me. He was about to be sent off to India to fight for his country. We hadn’t any choice.’
‘You’re in the family way.’
It was a statement and not a question. Tilly was startled by the accusing look in her mother’s eyes. ‘No, it wasn’t that.’
‘Then why did a toff stoop to marry a common girl from Whitechapel, I’d like to know? Or do you class yourself as a lady now, Tilly? Are you too grand for your family?’
Shaking her head, Tilly was close to tears. ‘No, Ma, of course not. I’m just the same. I’m still your Tilly.’
‘No,’ Nellie said, slowly. ‘No, you’re not. Just look at you. It would take your dad a sixmonth to earn enough money to buy them kid boots and that outfit. You married above your station and only grief will come of it.’
Wiping her eyes on the back of her hand, Tilly sniffed. ‘He loves me, Ma. He really loves me and I’m going to India to join him.’
‘Is this one of your tales, Tilly? You always was one for making up stories.’
‘No, I swear it’s the truth. I’m going with Francis and Hattie. We’re sailing for Bombay on the sixth of August and I’ll be staying with them in Delhi until Barn
ey sends for me to join him.’
Getting slowly to her feet and wringing her apron between her hands, Nellie stared at Tilly, shaking her head. ‘What I’ll say to your dad I just don’t know. You’ve always been a worry to me, in work and out of work like I don’t know what. Never settling down with a good honest man of your own class.’
‘You mean like Molly with her stingy shop assistant husband and a baby every year? Or Emily hitched to a man who tried to rape me; a vicious brute who’s older than her own father?’
‘Don’t talk like that, Tilly. I know what you said happened when you was with Bert, but we only got your word for it. You know how you make things up sometimes; you get carried away with your imaginings.’
‘But I swear that was true, Ma. Every last word was true.’
‘So you say, ducks, but up to now Bert’s been a good son-in-law and husband. He’s provided Emily with a nice home and now he’s looking to move them to a better place, what with her thinking she might be in the family way again.’
‘And that’s the life you wanted for me too, is it?’ Frustration, disappointment and a growing feeling of resentment bubbled up inside Tilly’s breast, and as she jumped to her feet she was shaking all over. ‘How can you be so mean to me, Ma?’
‘I ain’t being mean, I’m just being realistic. You’ve chosen your own path but it’s not going to be an easy one and I can see nothing but trouble.’
‘I’m sorry you feel like this. I just come to say goodbye to you all. I’ll wait for Pops and the nippers to come home and then I’ll be off.’
The thin cotton of Nellie’s apron ripped beneath her twisting hands and she stared down at the torn material with her face crumpled in dismay. ‘Now look what you’ve made me do. You’d best not hang around, Tilly. Bert and Emmie have taken the nippers to Victoria Park for a special treat for Lizzie’s birthday. I don’t want any upset when they comes home.’
‘Oh, no. I’d clean forgotten it was her birthday.’
