by Dilly Court
‘And what does that husband of yours think of all this? Have you told him what you’re doing?’
‘I wrote him.’
‘Tilly, you’re not telling me everything. When I came out of the hospital in Meerut I went straight to the bungalow in Delhi. I was told that the Reverend and his family had left for England. Why did Barney let you go?’
Shrugging her shoulders, Tilly went to the door and opened it. ‘You ask too many questions, Clem. I’m tired and I’m going home.’
Next morning, Tilly came downstairs to find Clem already up and about. He came out of the small front parlour that they used as a storeroom. ‘You’ve collected all that on your own?’
‘My brothers help me when they’re not at school.’ Walking quickly past him, Tilly went into the kitchen. ‘You’ve stoked the range.’
Clem grinned. ‘Had to earn my keep somehow, didn’t I?’
The kettle was bubbling and hissing out steam and Tilly saw that there was a fresh loaf of bread on the table, a bowl of eggs and a pat of yellow butter. ‘You’ve been out shopping?’
‘I’m not entirely useless, in spite of the gammy leg.’ He picked up the teapot, warming it with some boiling water from the kettle. ‘It just takes me twice as long to do things, like taking this damn teapot into the scullery and emptying it down the sink,’ he added, with a wry smile.
Resisting the temptation to help him, Tilly watched as he limped painfully out into the scullery. ‘You don’t have to prove anything to me,’ she said, as Clem hobbled back into the room. ‘I’m just glad you survived that terrible injury.’
‘Are you? Are you really, Tilly?’
‘Of course I am. And I’ve been thinking, you could be a big help to me in the shop. It’s a lot for me to manage on my own.’
Clem made the tea, saying nothing, but Tilly could tell by the hunch of his shoulders that he was going to be difficult.
‘I’m offering you a job. If you can manage the shop then I can be out getting stock. I can’t pay you a lot but we could build up the business and you’d have a share of the profits.’
Clem turned on her, his hazel eyes flashing. ‘I’m not a charity case. You don’t have to feel sorry for me.’
‘I don’t. That isn’t fair.’
‘Maybe not, but that’s what it would be. You taking in a poor crippled man and giving him a job just because he’s family.’
‘It isn’t like that. I need help.’
‘Oh, I know you mean well. But you’re just biding your time until Barney sends for you and then you’ll be off to join him without a backward glance. I know you, Tilly – you live in a dream world. Well, this is real life, and I may be a cripple but I’m still a man with feelings.’
‘I don’t understand. Why are you being so mean when I’m trying to help you?’
Grabbing her by the shoulders, Clem lifted her chin so that she was forced to meet his eyes. ‘You really don’t understand, do you? I love you, Tilly. I’ve always loved you, but you belong to another man. If I thought there was any chance for us, then I’d stay and work myself to the bone for you.’
Now was her chance to tell him the truth and ask him to stay, but the words stuck in her throat. It would be all too easy to believe that Clem truly loved her, but Barney’s honeyed words still echoed painfully in her head. Men said tender things when it suited their purpose, but even so she didn’t want Clem to leave. ‘Yes, I’m married to Barney but that doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings for you, Clem.’ Tilly caught her breath as she saw the glimmer of hope in his eyes and added hastily, ‘I mean, I love you like a brother. We’re family now and we’ve got to stick by each other. Please stay. I need you.’
‘Brother!’ Clem let his hands drop to his sides, shaking his head. ‘It wouldn’t work. You’re asking too much of me. I’ll leave as soon as I’ve made my peace with the old man.’
‘But where will you go? What will you do?’
‘Drink your tea before it gets too stewed, and don’t worry about me. I won’t be far away; if you ever really need me I’ll be there for you, Tilly.’
Tilly bit her lip, swallowing back tears of anger and frustration. She couldn’t bring herself to admit that her marriage to Barney was a sham and that he would never send for her, but the thought of Clem leaving tore at her heart. She didn’t love him, not in the wild, passionate way she had loved Barney, but the idea of him living on his own, struggling to earn his bread, was almost too painful to bear. Suddenly she was angry, very angry! Angry at Barney for deceiving her, angry at the accident that had crippled a good man, and angry at Clem for . . . for what she didn’t quite know.
‘Don’t you dare walk out of that door, Clem Tuffin. This is your home and this is where you belong. If anyone should go it’s me.’
Clem stopped in the doorway, staring at her with his brow creased in frown lines. ‘Don’t be daft.’
‘You walk out of that door and I’ll never speak to you again,’ Tilly said, picking up his old cap and jamming it on her head. ‘I’ll move into the room at the back of the shop and you stay here with your dad and Emmie. Sit round on your backside all day if you want to but I’ve got work to do.’ Snatching up her shawl, Tilly pushed past Clem, heading for the front door.
‘No.’ Clem came after her, barring her way. ‘You’re right, Tilly. I’m the one not facing up to his responsibilities. I’ll move into the storeroom and I’ll help you in the shop or drive the cart, whatever needs doing. I won’t leave you to cope on your own. And don’t worry – I won’t mention my feelings again.’
Tilly managed a wobbly smile. ‘That’s right. You remember that I’m your aunt and you have to do what I say.’
Clem’s eyes twinkled with a flash of his old humour. ‘Yes, auntie. Anything you say.’
Clem moved into the tiny storeroom behind the shop. At first Tilly felt uncomfortable in his presence and the fiction that all was well between herself and Barney lay between them like an invisible barrier. In spite of this, they formed a good working partnership, with Tilly insisting on driving the cart, collecting and delivering stock and Clem minding the shop. But there were times when the items were simply too large or too heavy for her to lift on her own and she had to turn to Clem for help. Gradually, and almost without her realising it, he began to take over the driving and the purchasing of stock. He surprised Tilly by demonstrating a real flair for business, and she came to rely on him more and more.
Spring had turned into a hot and steamy summer and the shop was bulging at the seams with stock. When the premises next door became vacant, and after a brief consultation with Clem, Tilly decided it was time to expand and she took on the rental of the second shop. She had been to a sale of fire-damaged goods and purchased several cases of china ornaments and crockery. When they were unpacked it turned out that only the packaging had suffered and the china cats, dogs and figurines were all perfect, as were the plates, cups and saucers. Tilly decided that the new shop would sell bric-a-brac, crockery and cutlery, all cheap and cheerful and within the budget of most of the people who lived in the crowded tenements and closely packed terraces.
By the end of summer sales were booming, and, although most items only sold for a penny or twopence, Tilly had built up a reputation for giving value for money. It turned out that, as well as a good head for business, Clem had a natural ability with figures and he took over the bookkeeping, relieving Tilly of a chore that she did not enjoy in the slightest. By September they had made enough profit to take on Ernest, a strong youth who was quick and eager to please. He looked after Neptune, drove the cart and did most of the heavy lifting.
At home, Lizzie was happy taking care of Diamond and little Rose Matilda, while Emily devoted most of her time to nursing Bert. He seemed to be a little better now and was able to get up for a while each day, if only to sit in the chair by the window and look down on the street. He had recovered enough speech to make himself understood and sometimes Clem carried him piggyback down the stairs so that he c
ould sit in the kitchen and watch Diamond taking her first tottering steps. At Tilly’s suggestion, and with Clem and Ernie’s joint efforts, they managed to get Bert onto the cart and drove him to the shop, where he sat in a chair and seemed to take pleasure in watching the day to day running of the business.
With Clem and Ernie to help her, Tilly was able to pay brief visits home to Red Dragon Passage. She had been pleased to help them financially while Pops was sick, but with the onset of the warmer weather his health had improved enough to allow him to return to work, and Ma had at last given up her evening job at the pub. Even though she could now afford it, Tilly had not redeemed her wedding ring; she chose instead to put the money back into the business. Ma had long ceased asking questions about Barney and when Tilly might expect to be returning to India. Although it still hurt her to think about the callous way Barney had duped and used her, Tilly concentrated all her energies on building up her business.
The two shops were doing so well that Clem had suggested they might consider giving up the carting side of the business and concentrate on buying and selling. Realising the good sense behind the idea, Tilly readily agreed, and was quite happy for Clem to attend bankruptcy sales of furniture and warehouse clearances, while she concentrated on the china and household goods. She found that mops, brooms and scrubbing brushes were in great demand, and gradually their range increased until they could supply everything for the home, from a dishrag to a chiffonier.
An unusually warm September gave way to a blustery October and a dank, chilly November. Tilly arrived in Red Dragon Passage early one afternoon on a particularly bleak day at the beginning of the month to find a letter waiting for her. Her heart missed a beat and her mouth went dry as she took it from the mantelshelf while Nellie fussed about making tea. The writing on the envelope was familiar but it was not Barney’s. With trembling fingers, Tilly opened it and took out the single sheet of expensive writing paper.
Palgrave Manor,
Hertfordshire
1 November, 1898
My very dear Tilly,
You must think I’m truly dreadful for not writing before, but there has been so much to do since we moved back into our old home.
Francis is in his element as Lord of the Manor. I think he is much happier now than ever he was struggling in the ministry. He spends most of his time with his land agent, visiting farms and discussing the price of corn and other boring things. I have had the task of running the household now that Letitia and her little daughters have moved into the dower house. After much consideration, I decided that it was not fair to hold darling Ronnie to our unofficial engagement and I wrote to him breaking it off as gently as I could.
The good news is that I am engaged to a wonderful man who is kindness itself and very rich, which I admit is an added bonus. Hector’s estate is much larger than ours and his house is quite delightful. We are getting married next year and you must come to the wedding. I shall send you an invitation and I won’t take no for an answer.
As to that other brother of mine, that wretch Barney, we have not heard a word from him and Francis is extremely cross. I do hope he has been in contact with you and that you two will be reunited very soon.
Your loving friend,
Harriet Palgrave.
As Nellie bustled in from the scullery carrying a tray of tea, Tilly folded the letter and stuffed it into her pocket.
‘Not bad news. I hope, Tilly?’
‘No, Ma, just a note from Hattie. She’s engaged to be married.’
‘To that nice young officer you told me about?’
‘No, to a rich landowner who lives in a mansion.’
Setting the tray on the table, Nellie stared curiously at Tilly. ‘Ain’t it time that husband of yours sent for you? I reckon he’s forgotten he ever had a wife.’
‘He’s a soldier, Ma. He can’t just do what he wants.’
‘You can’t fool me,’ Nellie said, shaking her head. ‘I knows you too well. I think there’s something you’re not telling me.’
Glancing out of the window, Tilly realised that the light was fading fast and there was the sulphurous yellow tinge in the air that meant one thing only: the beginning of a real pea-souper. Jumping to her feet, she made a grab for her bonnet and shawl. ‘I got to go, Ma. If I don’t leave now I won’t be able to see a hand in front of my face when it gets dark.’
‘But Tilly, you haven’t answered my question.’
‘Got to go, Ma. See you next week.’
The choking yellowish-green fog was getting thicker by the minute when Tilly arrived back at the shop. She found Ernie had been left in charge, with Bert sitting in his chair gesticulating and muttering.
‘Where’s Clem?’ Tilly closed the door behind her, shutting out the creeping fingers of the London particular.
Ernie glanced nervously at Bert, who was shaking his fist at him. ‘He’s not right in the head, missis.’
‘Never mind that. Where’s Clem?’
‘Had to go out urgent, missis. Said to tell you that there was a bankrupt sale in Wharf Road and he couldn’t miss it. Said he’d be back afore dark.’
‘All right, Ernie. I’ll take over now. You get off home.’
Without waiting to be told a second time, Ernie scuttled out of the shop and was swallowed up by the fog.
Bert began to make agitated noises and Tilly went over to him, taking his one good hand and patting it in an effort to soothe him. ‘What is it you want?’
Rolling his eyes, Bert pointed to the door.
‘Yes, of course,’ Tilly said, in the tone she might have used to pacify Diamond in one of her tantrums. ‘We’ll take you home as soon as Clem returns. He really shouldn’t have gone out and left you with the boy.’
Bert nodded and made a sound that Tilly recognised as assent. It was so unlike Clem to go off without telling her, but perhaps the pea-souper had delayed him. Tilly went to the till and took out the day’s takings. Counting the money, she stowed it in a leather pouch and went into the back room to lock it in the safe. As she turned the key, she heard the doorbell jangle, and, thinking it must be Clem or a late customer, she hurried out into the shop. Three men holding cudgels stood in the doorway, their caps pulled down low over their eyes and mufflers disguising the lower parts of their faces.
‘We come to collect.’ The ruffian who appeared to be the leader moved forward, tapping his cudgel against the flat of his hand in a menacing manner. ‘Pay up, lady, and no one will get hurt.’
Bert made guttural noises in his throat and the intruder nearest to him raised his fist as if to strike.
‘No!’ Tilly cried. ‘Don’t touch him. Can’t you see he’s a sick old man?’
‘Pay up, lady, and he won’t get hurt, nor you neither.’
‘I know you,’ Tilly said slowly. She would never forget that voice or those scarred hands that had ripped her blouse and fumbled her breasts when she and Hattie were attacked in the street. ‘You’re part of the Old Stairs gang.’
‘Yeah, got it in one. We’re the Old Stairs gang, and if you knows that then you knows you got to pay up.’
‘Get out of here.’ Surprised at her own temerity, Tilly stood her ground. They were only callow youths after all, and she was not going to give in to their demands. ‘There’s no money in the till. See for yourself.’ The till opened with a loud ker-ching as Tilly pressed the key.
The third youth picked up a china chamber pot and dropped it on the floor, where it smashed into fragments. The one who had threatened Bert swiped his cudgel along a shelf, sending cups and saucers flying. The sound of breaking china echoed around the room.
The leader of the gang took a step towards Tilly, brandishing his cudgel in her face. ‘Pay up or it’ll be the old man next.’
Bert let out a loud roar and pitched himself off his chair, tackling the youth with such force that they went down on the ground, sprawling amidst the broken shards. Tilly leapt forward to protect him but was picked up as though she were a rag d
oll and tossed on to Bert’s chair. For a man who had been all but paralysed, Bert hung on with amazing strength, growling and slavering. Pinned down by Bert’s considerable weight, the boy kicked and swore as he struggled to get free. His mates hurled themselves into the fray and all Tilly could see was a mass of flailing limbs. Struggling to her feet, she seized a broomstick and hit out at any part of a body that she could wallop, screaming for them to leave Bert alone.
She leapt backwards as the door opened, broom raised to strike if it was another member of the gang, and almost cried with relief when she saw Clem. He paused on the threshold taking in the scene and then, rolling up his sleeves, he grabbed the youth on top by the scruff of his neck and pitched him out into the street.
‘Stand back, Tilly,’ he roared, seizing the next one and dragging him to his feet.
‘If it ain’t old peg leg.’ Snarling and baring his teeth, the boy wrenched himself free and squared up to Clem, fisting his hands. ‘Let’s see you fight me then, peg leg.’
Tilly brought the broom handle down across his back, momentarily diverting his attention. Grabbing him by the shoulders, Clem spun him round and landed a punch on the jaw that sent him staggering towards the doorway, where he tripped over the doormat and stumbled out into the street.
‘Help Bert,’ Tilly cried, as the pair on the floor rolled over and over, grunting and grappling. ‘He’s killing your dad.’
Throwing himself on them, Clem almost disappeared in a tangle of limbs, but somehow he managed to separate Bert from his assailant. Tilly attempted to drag Bert clear of the fight, but he was too heavy for her. Then, with one desperate upper cut to the jaw, Clem managed to stun his opponent. Hefting him off the ground, he threw him out onto the street. ‘If I see any of you round here again you won’t get off so lightly,’ he roared, slamming the door and locking it. His fierce expression turned to one of concern as he put his arm round Tilly. ‘Did they hurt you? Are you all right, love?’
