Elizabeth and Lily

by Hilary Bailey

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Cora. ‘I’ll help. Elizabeth – I’m sorry.’

  ‘This is a silly plan,’ said Elizabeth helplessly.

  ‘It’s the only plan,’ Lily told her sharply, ‘unless you want to confront your mother on her sickbed with a nasty fact which’ll rob her of any will to live. Do this, and you give her something to live for – the child.’

  ‘What about the future?’ asked Elizabeth.

  ‘We’ll deal with that when it comes. Go and put on your best dress.’

  When Elizabeth had left the room, Lily asked Cora, ‘Bad, is it?’

  ‘Couldn’t be worse,’ responded Cora. The two women assessed each other.

  ‘You’re not going to betray Elizabeth, are you?’ Lily asked roughly.

  Cora shook her head. ‘I’m not like that. I left home. I’m not like they are. In any case, her mother’s dying. You’re Lily Strugnell, aren’t you?’

  ‘Remember me?’

  ‘Remember you?’ Cora asked in astonishment. ‘Should I?’

  ‘At your dad’s sweatshop – I was dancing on the table. Then I got the sack.’

  Cora stared. ‘Good Lord. So that’s where you and Elizabeth met?’ She paused. ‘This baby, whose it it?’

  Lily shook her head. ‘He was killed.’

  Cora sighed. ‘Poor Elizabeth.’

  Mac came in, smartly dressed. Cora told him in a low voice, ‘I hope I can trust you. I don’t think Elizabeth really understands that her mother is dying. There’s no chance. Only a miracle, the doctor said. You must be careful – in her condition, a shock…’ She looked at him doubtfully.

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ he told her.

  ‘Of course you will, ducks,’ Lily exclaimed. ‘Don’t worry, Miss Warren. Mac’s pure gold.’ She gave him a kiss. ‘You’ll have to do, anyway. You’re all we’ve got.’

  Elizabeth came into the room.

  ‘I’ll get a cab,’ said Lily, and hurried out.

  Mac put his arm round Elizabeth. ‘Don’t think I’m presuming on our imaginary relationship,’ he said.

  Elizabeth was standing still, as if stunned. ‘My mother,’ she said in a bewildered voice.

  ‘The sight of you’ll cheer her up,’ Cora said briskly.

  Lily came rushing in. ‘Cab’s at the door.’ As they began to move off, she cried, ‘Wait a minute, wait a minute,’ and pushed a gold ring at Elizabeth. ‘Put it on,’ she said, ‘or the joke will be over before it begins.’

  Elizabeth put the ring on her left hand. ‘Thank you, Lily.’

  ‘Don’t mention it – plenty more where that came from,’ Lily remarked cheerfully. ‘Don’t start taking liberties with Mac, though, Elizabeth. I know what you’re like.’

  Cora looked at all three expressionlessly. Lily instructed, ‘Elizabeth – lean on Mac’s arm when you get to the house. Now, off you go.’

  When they had gone Lily threw herself in a chair opposite Lilah, who had sat quietly through the entire scene. ‘Bloody hell,’ she remarked, ‘I need a drink. I’ve put on a full-scale production in only half an hour.’

  ‘Poor Elizabeth. The play last night, and now this. And a baby coming,’ Lilah said. ‘She was born for trouble, Elizabeth. Gin suit you?’

  ‘Always,’ Lily said. ‘And yourself?’

  ‘Indubitably,’ Lilah responded, pouring the drinks.

  Harriet Warren met the party – Elizabeth leaning, according to instructions, on Mac’s arm – in the hall at Linden Grove.

  ‘Here we are, Mother. Look what the cat dragged in,’ Cora said loudly and cheerfully, while Harriet Warren looked at Mac and Elizabeth, and took in Elizabeth’s large shape. ‘She’s been trying to keep secrets from us. Congratulate the happy couple,’ said Cora.

  ‘Good heavens, Elizabeth,’ said Harriet.

  Mac took charge, advancing and holding out his hand. ‘Ellis McCarthy, ma’am. Elizabeth and I were married in France.’

  ‘You’re an American,’ declared Harriet. There was no warmth in her voice.

  ‘Yes – I hail from the city of Boston, ma’am,’ Mac told her, and forced a handshake by coming closer.

  ‘Well, Mr McCarthy, this is a surprise. Elizabeth – why did you not tell us?’

  ‘I’m not a wealthy man,’ said Mac with assumed manly frankness. ‘In fact, I’m sorry to say my wife has hitherto been keeping me. We met while I was studying at the Paris Conservatoire. And Elizabeth felt she would prefer to introduce the marriage to her family when our position was more conventional. I have high hopes now that that will soon be the case.’

  ‘A musician,’ Harriet said faintly.

  ‘Pianist – and composer,’ Mac told her.

  ‘I should like to see Mother now,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Has she a nurse? What does the doctor say?’

  ‘He’s not optimistic,’ Harriet replied shortly.

  Bella was lying flat in bed, under a heavy quilt. A small fire burned in her bedroom. The bedside table was covered with medicine bottles. She was very thin and her breath rasped in and out. Elizabeth knelt by the bed and whispered, ‘Mother.’

  Bella’s eyes moved towards her and she smiled.

  ‘Elizabeth.’ She could barely speak, and the eyes were very confused.

  Elizabeth whispered, ‘I didn’t know you were ill.’

  ‘… couldn’t find you,’ Bella said.

  ‘I know. Cora found me.’

  The eyes flickered. She remembered something. ‘A new play?’

  ‘Never mind that. You must try to get stronger, then you can come to see it.’

  Bella did not respond. ‘Your father…’ Her voice trailed off.

  ‘Father?’ whispered Elizabeth.

  Bella sighed, a dreadful noise. ‘I shall see him again.’

  When Elizabeth realised that she meant, she began to cry.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Bella whispered.

  ‘Oh God, oh God, Mother,’ Elizabeth wept. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t upset you. I haven’t been a very good daughter. This is my fault, all my fault you’re so ill. Are you in pain? What can I do?’

  ‘The baby…’ Bella said.

  ‘The baby,’ Elizabeth gasped. Her head was on the counterpane, her shoulders were shaking. She felt her mother’s hand on her hair.

  Bella seemed to compose herself. ‘Things have not been as they should have for you,’ she said in a steadier voice. ‘I did the best I could, but perhaps it was not quite good enough.’

  ‘You did everything.’

  ‘The play, though. I’m proud. You mustn’t let them…’ And her voice trailed away again.

  ‘You ought to go now,’ Harriet said. ‘She must rest.’

  Elizabeth turned a tear-stained face to her. Harriet looked agitated. Mac was behind her. His eyes conveyed a warning. ‘I’ll be here all the time,’ Elizabeth said to her mother. ‘Rest now.’ Bella closed her eyes.

  Outside the closed bedroom door Harriet said to Elizabeth, ‘Poor Bella. She’s rambling. What did she say?’

  Elizabeth, terribly upset, just stared at her. Why was her aunt so agitated? Surely Bella should not be hearing such a demanding tone outside the sickroom.

  ‘She’s been saying the most peculiar things,’ Harriet said.

  ‘Let’s talk downstairs,’ suggested Mac. ‘Elizabeth needs to sit down.’

  ‘We all need to sit down – I certainly do,’ declared Harriet. ‘I’ve been running up and down stairs—’

  ‘Oh, Ma,’ Cora groaned.

  Harriet rounded on her daughter, ‘Don’t “Oh, Ma” me. Your aunt’s very ill, and what help do I get? You aren’t at home and Elizabeth’s chosen to disappear, not even saying she’s married. Now I’m to blame – as usual.’

  Elizabeth turned and walked heavily downstairs. ‘There should be a nurse here,’ she said in a low voice. Harriet overheard and ran after her, saying, ‘A nurse! Who will pay for a nurse?’

  ‘Lily has been bringing money from me—’

  ‘It might have been bet
ter if you had come yourself. Are you suggesting I’m not taking care of your mother properly? Is that it? I should like to know what she’s been telling you.’ They had reached the foot of the stairs. Behind them, Cora said to Mac, ‘You must think this is awful.’ Mac did not reply.

  When they reached the drawing room it was obvious that a great deal of money had been spent on this visible part of the house for there were new curtains, expensive furniture in the room. Elizabeth sat down. Harriet remained standing. ‘I shall get in touch with a nursing agency and find a night nurse,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I’ll look after Mother during the day. That will relieve you of the burden of caring for her, Aunt Harriet.’

  ‘You’re implying I’m not treating her properly,’ Harriet said. ‘I really can’t agree to this disruption, Elizabeth. Nurses are a terrible strain on a household.’

  ‘Then I’ll take Mother back to where I’m living.’

  ‘She can’t be moved. She’s too ill.’

  ‘Let’s ask the doctor. When is he next due?’

  ‘Well… I’m not sure,’ Harriet said.

  ‘He doesn’t visit regularly?’ enquired Elizabeth. ‘With Mother so ill?’

  ‘He said it was unnecessary,’ claimed Harriet.

  Elizabeth stood up and screamed: ‘Telephone him now, this instant.’ She was shaking. ‘You’re a wicked woman, Aunt Harriet. You’re leaving my mother, who’s worked for you for nearly twenty years without ever complaining or asking for anything, to fight for her life with no proper attention. I’m not leaving her in this house a moment longer. You must be mad.’

  ‘How dare you!’ began Harriet.

  ‘Send for the doctor this minute,’ cried Elizabeth.

  Harriet turned to Mac. ‘Can’t you control this virago of a wife? You’d better tell her she’s coming close to slander. I shall send for my husband.’

  Mac turned to Cora. ‘What’s the doctor’s name? Where does he live? I’ll fetch him.’

  ‘I’ll go,’ said Cora.

  ‘Don’t you dare,’ cried Harriet. ‘Not before I’ve spoken to your father. I forbid you to go.’

  ‘I’ll do as I like,’ shouted Cora. ‘This is horrible. I’m ashamed. I don’t know what’s going on here, but it’s horrible – it isn’t as if we’re a poor family. We never have been, and now Father’s made a mint out of the war. There’s plenty of money.’ She paused, gasped, steadied herself and left the room. The front door banged.

  ‘See what you’ve done, Elizabeth,’ Harriet cried. ‘As usual you’ve brought trouble and disruption to this house. It’s always been the same.’

  ‘I’ll go for a doctor,’ Elizabeth said, getting up. ‘If you won’t let me call in the usual one, I’ll find another. Dr Quayle is only two streets away, if he’s still there.’

  ‘Let me go,’ offered Mac.

  ‘It’s best if I go.’

  ‘I’ll come with you.’

  They left Harriet standing in the drawing room. As they walked along the pavement, Mac said, ‘This can’t be doing you any good.’

  ‘I’m all right. Thank you for your help. As Cora said, it’s all quite horrible.’

  ‘There’s something fishy going on in that house,’ Mac told her. ‘Your aunt’s pretty keen to keep your mother under her own control.’

  Elizabeth did not answer. She was walking as fast as she could. A car drew up, honking. Cora leaned out. ‘Where are you going? I’ve got the doctor here.’

  ‘Keep going. We’ll follow,’ Mac said. The car drove off. Elizabeth and Mac turned and followed it back to the house.

  ‘I thought Cora’d walked out,’ said Elizabeth.

  ‘So did I.’

  It was Cora who let them in. ‘The doctor’s upstairs with Bella. Mother’s told the maid to telephone Father.’

  Elizabeth went upstairs, knocked at Bella’s bedroom door and went in. Bella lay in bed, scarcely aware, it seemed, of what was happening. ‘How is she?’ Elizabeth appealed to the doctor, a fat man with a steady air.

  ‘Not at all well. Very ill,’ he said. ‘Shall we talk outside? Mustn’t disturb the patient.’ Bella said something. He leaned closer to her. ‘That’s right, your daughter’s here.’

  On the landing he turned sharply to Elizabeth and said, ‘You should have called me days ago. When I last saw Mrs Armitage she was much less ill than this. Something could have been done to help her.’

  Elizabeth’s back felt as if it were breaking. ‘I’ve only just found out she’s ill,’ she said. ‘I’d like to move her to a more comfortable house and look after her.’

  ‘Frankly,’ he said, ‘it’s a matter of balancing better care against the danger of moving her. She’s very weak. It would be safer to make her more comfortable here, if that were possible. She needs constant nursing.’

  Elizabeth had to decide whether it was preferable to look after Bella at Linden Grove, obstructed all the time by the Warrens, or to move her to Lily’s flat. One glance at the angry look on Harriet’s face as she came upstairs decided her. She asked the doctor, ‘How do I set about it? Can I hire an ambulance? I must move her.’

  The doctor made the arrangements and Elizabeth phoned Lily to tell her to expect them. The doctor left, saying that he would return in an hour, when the ambulance arrived, and Elizabeth went to sit with her mother. There was little she could do but build up the mean fire burning in the room, give her mother a little water, then sit as Bella lay barely conscious, her breath labouring in and out of her lungs.

  She did not hear Robert Warren arrive in what Mac described as a very expensive car, nor witness Robert and Harriet’s hasty retreat into the dining room. Mac came upstairs with a cup of tea. He said, ‘Your aunt asked me to bring you this, and said your uncle would like to see you before the ambulance comes.’ He paused. ‘He was very polite,’ he added mistrustfully.

  ‘I suppose I must.’

  ‘No must about it.’

  Elizabeth drank the tea and stood up. ‘I’ll see him,’ she told Mac.

  ‘I’ll stand by you.’

  ‘All right.’

  Robert was waiting for her in the drawing room. Harriet slipped from the room as he began to speak. ‘I just wanted you to know that Bella goes with our blessing. Harriet’s afraid she may have expressed herself too forcibly a little while ago. She’s overtired, you understand. It’s no light matter to have such a seriously ill person to look after, and she’s most concerned – there have been nights where she has barely slept. No – as far as we’re concerned it’s excellent that you’re taking her. Who is your friend, and where does she live?’

  ‘Lily Strugnell.’

  He was not pleased. ‘That music-hall artiste – is she the woman you’re staying with? She has quite a reputation. Isn’t her husband divorcing her? Lord East’s son?’ He looked dubiously at Mac.

  ‘Lily’s a good friend,’ Elizabeth said. ‘We’ve known each other a long time. Do you remember her?’

  ‘I believe I do,’ he said.

  ‘You sacked her.’

  ‘Precisely.’

  There was a thump from upstairs. Mac looked up at the ceiling.

  ‘You must let us know where you are taking her. Poor Bella is so very ill. We will visit her…’ he was saying, when he observed Mac rapidly leaving the room. Robert asked loudly, ‘Where are you going?’ Instead of replying, Mac broke into a run. Robert, dropping his dignified manner, ran after him. There were hasty steps on the stairs. Elizabeth, amazed, saw her uncle calling upstairs from the hall, ‘Come down – come down at once.’ Elizabeth, slow and clumsy, followed, Robert now racing upstairs behind Mac, calling, ‘Stop! Stop!’ Then she heard Mac fling open the door of her mother’s room. By now they were all upstairs, and Robert was trying to block the doorway. Elizabeth, peering over his shoulder, saw Mac supporting the frail Bella while Harriet stood, frightened, on the other side of the bed. She was holding a pen.

  ‘My God. What is it?’ cried Elizabeth, pushing past her uncle and running in.


  ‘She’d pulled her up. She was trying to get her to sign something – holding her hand with the pen in it, forcing it across the page,’ Mac reported disgustedly. He glanced at Harriet across Bella’s drooping head. ‘You could have killed the woman,’ he told her. ‘You’re a monster.’

  It was at that point that the doctor returned, and not long after that the ambulance arrived. Robert and Harriet Warren had disappeared and were nowhere to be seen. Elizabeth quickly packed a few of her mother’s things, and the men carried Bella downstairs. As they got into the ambulance, Elizabeth caught a glimpse of a hand holding a small watering can withdraw behind the lace curtain of the house opposite. She waved.

  The ambulance contained an oxygen cylinder, and as soon as they pulled away the nurse put a mask on Bella’s face. Elizabeth sighed with relief as Bella breathed.

  ‘I shall have to ask the nurse to put you to bed, too, Mrs McCarthy, when we arrive. You look very drawn,’ said the doctor.

  Elizabeth did not reveal that she had just felt a strong pain draw itself across her tightened belly. She was not sure she was in labour, and if she were, she did not want to distract the doctor’s attention. She had spent two years nursing the sick and dying in hard conditions. She could not conceal from herself how gravely ill her mother was. She knew that there was very little chance of recovery. Meanwhile she saw no need to draw immediate attention to her own predicament, but what crossed her mind was that her experience in France had taught her about all the ways a man could die, but nothing about how they were born. There came another pain.

  As the ambulance sped through the streets she looked at Bella’s small, grey face. Things had changed so much since this morning. Before the day was out she might be a mother, and Bella a grandmother, or either of them dead.

  Lily flung open the door as they arrived. Bella Armitage was carried up to a large room, full of flowers, on the first floor. In the flurry, Elizabeth was left behind. Lily found her in the hall, leaning against the wall. She whistled. ‘Blimey! Is the baby coming?’ Elizabeth nodded.