Altogether, she had felt happier of late, until Rosie had dashed in with her news. She was finding Rosie an irritant, more so as time went on. Yet, she needed her. She couldn’t think of living in the house alone and eating alone.
The only comfort in all this was that Helen and her husband were miles away, and that they were not likely to move . . .
It was later in the day that John visited his mother and the first words she said to him were, ‘Have you heard about the sister becoming a lady?’
‘Yes, Annie told me.’
‘What do you think of it?’
What did he think of it? In a way it had put the final seal on his emotions: it had buried, as it were, all the tender thoughts of her that he still harboured.
‘I think she’ll carry the title very well. But then she was a lady before, and will always remain a lady.’
His mother stared at him hard. ‘You liked her, didn’t you?’
He came back at her quickly now, saying, ‘I liked them all. They are four unusual sisters.’
Catherine stretched out her feet towards the blazing logs; then, turning her head to look at John sitting on the other side of the fireplace, she said, ‘You know, although Mrs Atkinson is a very nice woman, and good at her work, just look at this place; and she says she would stay with me any time I wished, I must admit I would have been a bit lonely at this end if it hadn’t been for Miss Beatrice coming in, and with her interest in the wine and things. I think she’s what they call up here a canny lass. And I can tell you this, I feel she is lonely under that prim exterior of hers, because when we get talking and she loosens up, there’s a warmth there that hasn’t been tapped.’
‘I’m glad you find her so companionable. What about Rosie?’
‘Oh, Rosie’s a lovely girl. There are no complications about Rosie. I think she’s got over that jilted business, although,’ she paused, ‘at times she becomes quiet, and there’s a sad look comes into her eyes, as though she is lost. At those times I forget she’s a young woman and I think I’m dealing with a child, but a hug and a cup of tea usually bring her around. She says I’m like her Mrs Annie next door; she says I’m comfortable.’
He laughed now as he said, ‘Yes, that’s Rosie. She needs comfortable people.’
‘She’s a bonny girl and she’s always talking about that Robbie. Is there something between them?’
‘If Robbie has anything to do about it, there will be some day. But she still looks upon him more as a brother. I don’t think she’ll come to her senses with regard to him until she realises she might lose him.’
‘Yes, that’s often the way. Do you know something? I’m looking forward to Christmas.’
‘That’s weeks away.’
‘I know it is, but I can still look forward to it. I think it’ll be lovely here: the trees and the garden all covered with snow and a big log fire.’ She flapped her hand towards the grate as he laughed and said, ‘Don’t bank on it. It’ll likely be pouring with rain, then the nearest you’ll get to it is sleet and a wind that’ll cut the face off you.’
‘Oh, you are a dampener, aren’t you? You’re not going yet? You’ve only been here an hour.’
He looked at his watch. ‘I’ve been here two hours and fifteen minutes, Mrs Falconer, and I could have seen half a dozen patients in that time. Now don’t you get up: I’ll see myself out. If I can I’ll slip along this evening.’
‘Do . . . do that’ – her voice was soft now – ‘and we’ll ask her in for a game of cards. She enjoyed that the other night.’
‘Yes, all right. I’ll do that on one condition, I’m not sticking my winnings in the poor box. You understand?’
‘Yes, Mr Scrooge, I understand.’
She waved to him as he went out laughing.
He was in the hall putting his coat on when the communicating door opened and Beatrice appeared. She hesitated, saying, ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were here; I didn’t think you were expected until this evening.’ As she made to step back, he put out his hand and pulled her forward, saying, ‘Don’t be silly. Anyway, I think she’s waiting for you,’ and he jerked his head towards the sitting room door. He was still holding her hand when he put his other hand on top of hers, saying in a low voice, ‘Thank you for being so kind to her. She’s very grateful for your company, and so am I.’
Her face flushed pink and her eyelids blinking, she wetted her lips before she said, ‘It’s nothing, the thanks are all on my side. She’s taken some . . . well, she’s given me a purpose in life and taken some of the loneliness away.’
They stared at each other; then in a very small voice, she said, ‘Rosie spends a great deal of her time with the MacIntoshes. As you know, I’ve never approved of them but,’ she swallowed deeply now and added, ‘we all need something, don’t we?’
His voice was as low as hers as he agreed, ‘Yes, Beatrice, you’re right, we all need something. And you have my deepest thanks and regards for your kindness to my mother. I have been very concerned about her for some time. You see, her arthritis is worsening and there will likely come a day when she’ll need a nurse. She makes herself walk about now, but it can’t go on for much longer. Of course, she fights the fact all the time, because she used to be a live wire: she could ride a horse as well as any man, and row a boat, too. She used to go out deep-sea fishing from Rye, when we lived down south.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
‘She never speaks of it.’
‘No, of course she wouldn’t. She’s still angry inside that it all had to come to an end. Half her time she should be in bed, so you can understand how grateful I am for your attention to her.’ His hand slid away from hers; then he was exclaiming almost in horror, ‘Oh, my dear! Don’t cry. Please!’
‘No, I’m not, I’m not. I was just . . . just being silly. It isn’t very often I . . . I am thanked for anything I do.’
‘Well, if you want my opinion, that’s bad manners on the part of many people, I should think. But don’t, please, please don’t upset yourself.’
‘I’m not; I’m just grateful. Now I don’t want your mother to see me like this; if you’ll excuse me.’ She backed from him, her lips quivering as she pulled open the door and went back into the house again, leaving him standing very perplexed.
Well! well! As his mother had said, there was another side to Miss Beatrice Penrose-Steel. Indeed, indeed there was. Her loneliness was a cloak about her, a cloak that she had likely never lifted to allow her sisters to see the person beneath. He put on his hat and went thoughtfully out of the house. Life was full of surprises. Was this why she insisted on being called Penrose-Steel? He was well acquainted with the ailments that attacked the body; but not so much thought was given to the secret ailments that attacked the mind, and so often loneliness was one of them.
Six
‘It’ll do you good to get away, lass,’ Annie was saying.
‘Yes, it’ll be nice to see Helen again, and she wants me to see the house before it is sold. It’s much too big for them, she said; but it’s a lovely place on the river.’
‘And you’re travelling with her friend, you say?’
‘Yes, I remember her. A nice young woman. Helen used to spend a lot of time at Col Mount. I once went there on an errand years ago. I don’t suppose it’s changed all that much. But it’s a beautiful place. Gets its name from being in a pass between two hills.’
‘Is she coming here for you?’
‘No, we’re meeting at Newcastle station. I think she’s moving, too. She lost her husband a little while ago.’
‘How long will you be staying?’ put in Robbie.
Rosie turned to him, where he was sitting at the end of the table, and said, ‘’Til the New Year, which will make it about a fortnight altogether.’
‘What did Miss Beatrice have to say about that?’
‘Oh’ – Rosie now looked from one to the other – ‘not as much as I had thought she would. She doesn’t, of course, like me going down to see Helen, and I was expecting to be faced with a battle. But she just said, “Well, you know what I think, but you don’t take any notice of me.”’
‘Is that all?’ Annie’s eyebrows were raised.
‘Yes, that’s all, Mrs Annie. But she’s been different of late, I must say. She’s got a new interest now since the doctor’s mother has taken the annexe. In fact, she’s never out of it.’
Annie’s lips formed the words, ‘Oh! Oh!’
‘What do you mean, oh, oh?’ Rosie asked, with a smile.
‘Just, oh, oh. Is there not an ulterior motive there?’
‘You mean the doctor?’
‘Yes. Who else would I mean?’
Rosie did not answer for a moment but she looked at Robbie and then shook her head and said, ‘Oh, no,’ which wasn’t convincing even to herself, and Robbie put in, ‘Why not? How old is she now, twenty-four? And he’s what?’
The question was put to Rosie, but she shrugged her shoulders and said, ‘I don’t know about him. Thirty or so, I should say. But I can’t imagine . . .’
‘Now don’t you say you can’t imagine anybody falling for her,’ – Annie was wagging her finger at her – ‘men do strange things, especially to people who are kind to their mothers.’ And she laughed now as she looked at her son; then on a high note, she said, ‘Isn’t it about time you did some strange things, too? What about cocking your cap at Battling Bella? She’s just been widowed for the third time.’
As they all laughed at this suggestion, Robbie flapped his hands towards his mother and said, ‘Surprise you if I did, wouldn’t it? Desperate men do desperate deeds. And she’s got five bairns, and two of them are ready for work. Yes, it needs thinking about. Just think of the help I’d get in the yard.’
As Rosie looked at these two friends and listened to the silly back-chat, she thought, I’d really rather stay here for Christmas. But then, no, it’s too near Beatrice; and it will be lovely to see Helen again. Then a strange thought interrupted her thinking: Beatrice and the doctor? No. No. He’s too nice. He . . . he wouldn’t want her. Then again a thought: But she had been different of late, hadn’t she? Nicer, kinder. And . . . and if it did come about, it might make all the difference to life in the house. And if it made her happy . . . But the doctor, he’s . . . he’s really too good for her. And why should she have someone like him when she herself had been jilted by Teddy? Oh Teddy! The name now no longer revived a feeling of love, but more one of hate. She had received no word from him, nothing more since that final letter. There were times, even now, when she could hardly believe it and thought she must be dreaming. But no, she wasn’t dreaming. She had been spurned. That was the word, an old-fashioned word, she had been spurned, rejected, thrown aside. And it had done something to her, for she would never again feel young or gay. She did laugh at times, especially when she came over here: this house was a refuge; these two people had saved her life. Well, if not her life then her sanity.
‘Do you visit the doctor’s mother often?’
‘Yes. Yes, I’m always popping in on her. She’s a very nice old lady, very jolly, but she’s crippled with arthritis, yet she still gets about. She’s made piles, I mean, bottles and bottles of wine these last weeks. She said they’re all going to get drunk at Christmas. She’s shown Beatrice how to make the wine. She wanted to show me, but . . . well, I wasn’t interested.’
‘You’re catching the ten o’clock train in the morning; so I’ll run you in.’
‘Oh, that’s nice of you, Robbie. Thank you.’
He turned about now and without another word pulled his cap and coat from the back of the door and went out.
As she herself stood up to leave, Annie remarked, ‘You’ll meet a lot of different people at Helen’s. That’ll be another kind of world. Who knows, you might come across the one you like.’
It was almost with a bark that Rosie turned on her, saying, ‘I won’t! I won’t and I wouldn’t. I . . . I’ll never believe anybody again, not in that way. Never! D’you hear Mrs Annie? Never!’
‘Never’s a long time, lass. Never’s a long time. I know how you feel, though, but stranger things have happened. Time will tell. It seems it could be happening to Robbie; there are two lasses after him again.’
Startled, Rosie said, ‘What! After Robbie?’
‘Why look so surprised; he could marry any day if he had the mind,’ to which Rosie said nothing, she only stared wide-eyed at the older woman.
Seven
Frances Middleton set the large tray down on the table with a clatter, saying, ‘Well, they’ve done justice to that I must say. And they’re as merry as church bells; laughing their heads off.’
‘Well, so will we be,’ said Cook, ‘when we get through these three bottles,’ she pointed to the dresser, ‘because it’s good stuff the old lady makes, although she did warn me it’s very new and needs to stand for some time. My! I slept like a log last night after those couple of glasses.’
‘It’s because you mixed them, Cook,’ said Mary Simmons. ‘Me dad says that’s what makes you drunk, mixing them, more than the amount.’
‘These are home-made wines, miss know-all, not the stuff your dad drinks.’
The kitchen maid bowed her head slightly, but Janie Bluett winked at her, saying, ‘Well, we’ll see what happens later, at least to me, because I’m havin’ one of each, and the sooner the better. So, let’s get cleared away and settle down to a night of it because the missis is quite set in there, I can tell you.’
‘There’s a change, if ever I saw one.’ Frances Middleton nodded her head. ‘I’ve never had a thank you out of her since she took over, until these last few months. And now she actually asks you to do something, not tells you. When I took tea in this afternoon for her and the old lady, she was laughing her head off. It was a sight to see, I can tell you.’ . . .
At this moment Beatrice was again laughing her head off as she said, ‘Oh, I can’t believe that, Mrs Falconer.’
‘You can, my dear, you can. He there, sitting grinning like an idiot now, went upstairs and wrecked his room. He even threw his toys out of the window, all because I wouldn’t let him go on a day’s outing with—’ she now shook her head and looked at John, saying, ‘what was it? The Boys’ Brigade, or the Band of Hope, or something? He was only six at the time. It was no use trying to knock into his head that you had to be invited, that it was only special children that went. We lived in Tunbridge Wells at the time, and the trip was to Hastings and he had been to Hastings a number of times before that. And then there was the time he was sent home from school for kicking a boy on the shins, and the parents came to the school and complained. But I was for him that time; he wasn’t ten and this young lout was twelve or so, and a bully.’
‘Mother! Mother! Will you shut up? And put the corks in those bottles, or I shall start reminiscing, or perhaps recalling the story of a young lady who dived off the end of Hastings pier in little more than her knickers.’
‘I didn’t! I didn’t! It wasn’t like that at all.’
‘Yes it was. And what you need now is a very strong coffee.’
‘Oh, I’ll tell the girls.’
‘You’ll do nothing of the sort.’ John stabbed his finger down at Beatrice who was about to rise from the couch. ‘I’m the only steady one on my feet; I’ll make it. And Mother—’ he turned now and his finger was again wagging to where she sat in the deep armchair to the side of the fire, and he said, ‘No more tasters, d’you hear? I’m on duty in the morning at half-past eight, and I know what your potions do to my head. I’ve had experience of them before. So, leave the corks where they are. Now, I mean it.’
&nb
sp; ‘All right, all right. We’ll see about it after we’ve had the coffee.’
After he had left the room there was silence for a moment or two. Then Catherine Falconer said quietly, ‘It’s been a lovely Christmas, hasn’t it? I’ve never seen him so relaxed. I think it’s because he’s got me settled in this lovely little house.’
Beatrice did not answer for a moment. She raised her eyes and looked at the ceiling and in a thoughtful voice she said, ‘It’s the nicest Christmas I’ve had since . . . well, since I was a child. Even when they were alive, my mother and father, there was always Helen and Marion and Rosie. They were always so gay and laughing, and somehow I was never able to join in. I don’t know why. At times I felt I had no-one belonging to me, except Father. And then to find out all that.’
‘Now, now forget it, my dear. Forget it.’ Catherine pulled herself painfully to the edge of her chair, saying again, ‘Forget about the past. You can never cure the past. Just think of the future. You’re a bonny young woman . . . a bonny lass, as they say up here.’
Beatrice quickly pulled her head up from the back of the couch, saying, ‘You think I’m bonny?’
‘Yes. Yes, I do. You’re very presentable.’
‘I’m . . . I’m putting on weight; I eat too many chocolates.’
‘Well, the cure for that is to stop eating chocolates. Ration yourself, and look to the future; you’re young and have all life before you.’
‘Yes, I will. I will.’
‘What will you do?’ John was asking the question as he appeared carrying a tray with three cups of coffee. But it was his mother who answered him, saying, ‘Never you mind. Just let’s have the coffee, and we can pull out the corks again.’
The Obsession Page 13
