To Turn Full Circle

by Linda Mitchelmore

  ‘But the tatties, Doctor – I’ve got to put them on.’

  ‘What’s that? Can’t hear you with these things in my ears. Go, girl, when I tell you to.’ He pointed – a stern expression on his face – towards the door.

  Florrie went.

  ‘And now I can listen to your chest, without Florrie’s nose poking in your business,’ Dr Shaw said to Emma. ‘Open your blouse a couple of buttons, child.’

  The listening over, Dr Shaw removed his stethoscope and pronounced Emma in reasonable health, given she’d been so ill when she’d stopped with Mrs Phipps, as she’d feared he would. No supper for Emma, then?

  But she took a deep breath and said, ‘I could help Florrie with the supper. And if there was bit left over …’

  ‘I was just going to suggest that very thing. And my wife has discovered some clothes my daughter Sarah has outgrown which she thinks will fit you. A pair of boots, too. And a warm coat. My wife has packed it all neatly for you, but I fear it’ll be too heavy for you to carry after your terrible shock of earlier, so I’ve arranged for Seth Jago to come and collect you.’

  ‘Seth?’ Emma said. ‘Him? Where’s he going to take me?’

  ‘Oh, I’m jumping ahead of myself, aren’t I? I called on Mr Jago after seeing to the arrangements for poor Sophie, and I put it to him that as it was he who had made you homeless, the least he could do was offer you refuge in that enormous villa of his. He just happens to have a vacancy for a housemaid now that poor Sophie is dead. He said he’d send Seth to fetch you.’

  ‘Sophie worked for Mr Jago?’

  ‘Yes. Apparently she slipped out of her room last night and never came back. Didn’t you know she’d worked for him?’

  ‘No. And I can’t work for him, either. I don’t want to be a housemaid. My mama was saving for me to train as a teacher when I’m old enough. She …’

  ‘And do you want to be a teacher?’ Dr Shaw interrupted.

  Emma thought for a moment. No, she didn’t really. She didn’t like having to chastise the children for shrieking with laughter in the playground when all they were doing was being little children – and heaven only knew most of them had little to laugh about. And then there was the fact a woman teacher had to leave if she married. The thought of being an elderly, spinster teacher filled her with dread. She’d gone along with it because her mama had wanted a better life for her so much. But at this moment, it was as though the doctor was seeing into her mind, her soul.

  ‘Not really,’ she said. ‘But for Mama’s memory I would.’

  ‘Very commendable. But I think the moment has come for you to give some thought to your future and what you want for yourself. Time spent in the Jago household could give you that.’

  ‘But not in service. I don’t want to be a servant. I won’t be!’

  ‘It doesn’t have to be forever, Emma.’

  ‘It can’t be at all, Doctor.’

  ‘Now, now, child – it never does to make decisions in haste. Or after a shock the like of which you’ve had today. Some good food inside you and maybe a small glass of porter and you’ll see it all differently.’

  ‘I know what you mean, Doctor,’ Emma said, ‘and I’m grateful to you for asking on my behalf, but …’ Emma tried to swallow but couldn’t. She gulped and gulped trying, until she coughed suddenly, felt whoozy with the effort of it all.

  ‘What is it, Emma?’ Dr Shaw touched her arm lightly, smiled. ‘Whatever it is that’s bothering you, you can tell me.’

  ‘I’ve got a little money saved but it probably won’t be enough to pay your bill,’ Emma said. ‘I could do some jobs for you to pay for your services if you’ve got anything I could do. I …’

  ‘It might surprise you to know I don’t charge everyone who comes to see me.’

  Should she tell him? The real reason she didn’t want to stop under the Jago roof. A doctor was like a priest, wasn’t he? Bound by some sort of oath not to divulge what a patient had told him, unless the law had been broken. She knew the doctor had seen her mama without her drawers on after the miscarriages. To tell him what Mrs Phipps had been saying about her mama and Mr Jago couldn’t be any worse, could it?

  ‘Mrs Phipps said Mr Jago and his son Carter had been visiting my mama. And … and …’

  ‘And Mrs Phipps intimated it wasn’t the rent they were calling for?’

  Dr Shaw knelt in front of Emma, held her hands in his, narrowed the gap between them

  ‘Yes,’ Emma said. She hung her head. Images of Mr Jago and Carter even touching her mother were making her feel sick.

  The doctor placed a hand under Emma’s chin and raised it so she was forced to look at him. ‘I think we can both discount anything that Mrs Phipps says, don’t you?’

  ‘I want to, Doctor, but …’

  ‘Then you must. I regret now agreeing the woman could take you in after you collapsed. Sadly, no one else offered, and I had no bed spare here at the time. But rest assured, I’m sure whatever it is Mrs Phipps has told you is all make belief.

  ‘Now, I can hear Florrie pacing up and down the hall which tells me she’s keen to get the potatoes on.’ The doctor rose, stiffly.

  ‘That’s not the only reason,’ Emma said quickly, not wanting him to go. She had to persuade him somehow that she couldn’t go to the Jago’s. ‘I went to see Mr Jago because he sold – or burned – all my things. I told him in no uncertain terms what I thought of him. He threw me out. He’s not going to want me back.’

  ‘Ah, yes. Mr Jago did mention it. But he’s accepted it as having been said in the heat of the moment.’

  ‘Heat of the moment …’ Emma began. But her words died on her lips. If she had to tell Mr Jago the same thing a million times, she would.

  ‘Yes, my dear – heat of the moment. Now, I must get on. And so must Florrie. Seth Jago will be here with the pony and trap to collect you at nine.’

  The second Seth stepped into the hall Carter raced towards him. ‘Oh, there you are, baby brother,’ he said. ‘Where’ve you been?’

  Seth decided to ignore the ‘baby brother’ insult. ‘At the police station, as you well know. Answering questions, same as you were earlier. About Sophie, and if I …’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘That I had no idea she’d left the house.’

  ‘And you were all tucked up in bed and wouldn’t have heard her going out anyway?’

  ‘Something along those lines, yes.’

  ‘I heard that slut Emma Le Goff found her …’

  ‘Emma’s not a slut.’

  ‘Tried it on with her, did you? Got slapped for your pains?’

  Carter was blocking Seth’s path, arms folded.

  ‘No. Let me pass.’

  ‘Need a few lessons in seduction, you do. Loosen ’em up with gin first. She’ll be in Sophie’s old room tonight. She’ll be a bit of practice for you.’

  Seth didn’t want to practise with anyone. He didn’t want a different woman each night the way his brothers did.

  ‘Emma’s coming here?’

  ‘You heard. Dr Shaw was round here earlier, pleading the slut’s case …’

  ‘Call Emma that one more time and I’ll thump you.’ Seth balled his fists. He and Carter had had a scrap or two as children, the way brothers do. But as they’d grown, Seth had learned to avoid being in his brother’s company if at all possible – Carter had a foul temper and was far too quick to settle things with his fists, in Seth’s opinion. Carter had moved far beyond boyhood scraps – keeping out of his way as much as possible was Seth’s best option.

  ‘How gallant,’ Carter sneered. He jutted his chin towards Seth, taunting him. ‘Go on. Hit me. Bet you wouldn’t dare.’

  ‘Then you lose the bet.’

  Seth brought his right fist up and it smacke
d against Carter’s chin, sending him crashing against the wall. A picture was knocked to the floor, the glass shattering loudly in the cavernous hallway.

  Without waiting to see what damage he might have caused his brother, Seth strode away to see his father – find out what it was all about. He couldn’t imagine that his father had had a voluntary change of heart about Emma.

  But his father must have heard the commotion because the drawing-room door opened and he bellowed, ‘What the hell is going on here, boys?’

  Seth turned to see Carter struggling to his feet.

  ‘You tell him, big boy,’ Carter said.

  ‘In here,’ Reuben said, pushing Seth none too gently into the drawing-room.

  ‘Carter was making derogatory remarks about Emma Le Goff. Who, he tells me, is going to be coming here.’

  ‘He told you right. She is. But I’m not happy about it. She’s a nest of vipers, that girl.’

  ‘So, why is she coming, then?’ Seth asked.

  ‘Because we now have an empty room following Sophie Ellison’s demise, and Dr Shaw knows it. The good doctor seems to think I’m the cause of Miss Le Goff’s distress. A load of rubbish, of course, but …’

  ‘You are. You should …’

  ‘Don’t interrupt when I’m speaking.’

  ‘Go on,’ Seth said.

  ‘I will – not that I need your permission. In case Carter didn’t get around to telling you before you socked him one, you’re to fetch the little madam. I’ve arranged for you to collect her in the pony and trap at nine.’

  ‘Why me?’

  ‘Because I’m telling you to, perhaps? You’ve already given me grief by bringing her here …’

  ‘I didn’t bring her. She was coming here of her own accord. I merely followed with her bag.’

  ‘How gallant.’

  Gallant? Emma was hardly likely to see it as that. But now he was thinking about it, Emma would be safer with him than she would be if one of his brothers was fetching her. ‘That’s as maybe. But I’m ashamed to be a Jago at the moment, and that’s the truth. If Dr Shaw hadn’t asked you to take Emma in, you wouldn’t have volunteered, would you? You’d rather have seen her die of starvation and cold than take her in.’

  Reuben Jago laughed loudly, pushing his face close to Seth’s so that Seth could smell the stench of none-too-fresh breath. He backed away. ‘I could still change my mind, son. Now you have ten seconds to leave this room and do as you’re bid.’

  Seth left. He would never forgive himself if Emma starved and died of cold with nowhere else but Hilltop House to go to.

  ‘Have I got to sleep in Sophie’s bed?’ Emma asked Seth as the pony plodded up the hill, struggling with the incline and an extra passenger and her carpet bag now full of clothes and a pair of boots that Emma wished she hadn’t been given because it would make leaving Reuben Jago’s house more difficult.

  ‘Yes, but Mrs Drew changed the sheets and gave it all a good clean. She says she’s sorry she can’t take you in.’ Seth loosed a rein and patted the blanket covering Emma’s knees. The pony skidded on the cobbles and Seth jiggled the reins to steady it. ‘She wasn’t asked to do it, Emma. Pa said she wasn’t to, when she suggested it. But being Mrs Drew she did it anyway when his back was turned.’

  ‘I must remember to thank her,’ Emma said. She hunched her shoulders, squashed herself in as small as she could. She was finding it unsettling being so close to Seth in the pony trap. She cast a sideways look at him. Strong profile, a hint of a seven o’clock shadow on his chin.

  They travelled on in silence. It wasn’t a long journey and Emma felt her heart plummet as they reached the Jago villa.

  Seth guided the pony and trap in through the gateway, talking soothingly to the animal. ‘Easy, Ned, easy,’ he said, and they came to a standstill outside the front door.

  Almost immediately the door was flung wide and Reuben Jago filled the space. ‘Around the back, Seth,’ he yelled.

  Emma stared up at him, glaring down at her from the top of a short but wide flight of steps. He looked like some sort of angry god – Zeus perhaps.

  ‘No, Pa,’ Seth said – not angrily, but there was confidence in his voice; a confidence he didn’t feel, Emma, could tell, because his leg shook beside her in the trap. ‘The doctor said Emma has to take it easy for a couple of days. There are too many steps at the back.’

  ‘Oh yes, the good doctor. But that’s as maybe,’ Reuben snapped. ‘Servants use the rear entrance. Now do as you’re told, son.’

  ‘I’m not going to be a servant, Seth,’ Emma whispered, leaning into him. The emotion of the moment was making her feel weak. She needed support. ‘I won’t be.’

  ‘You won’t be doing anything for a few days. You’ve got to get your strength back first,’ Seth whispered back. He reached under the blanket for Emma’s hand and held it firmly.

  ‘Stop muttering like a pair of lovesick pigeons,’ Reuben Jago bawled. ‘I said, round the back, Seth. Now get to it!’

  ‘No, Pa,’ Seth said. He jumped down from the trap and ran round in front of the pony to help Emma down. He held out a hand towards her, but Emma kept her hands tightly clasped under the blanket.

  ‘Take me around the back, Seth,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t want you to get into trouble with your father on my account. Besides, I won’t be stopping long.’

  ‘Well, for as long as you’re here you’ll come in and out of the front door. And harm will come to you in this house over my dead body.’

  It was Seth himself who showed Emma to her room up in the attic. The gardener and Mrs Drew came in daily, and only the cook and one maid ever slept in he told her – and the cook had retired to her room immediately supper had been served and cleared away – so there was no one else around to do it.

  No need to remind Emma that the maid who’d slept in had been Sophie Ellison. Poor, dead, Sophie Ellison.

  Seth’s brothers – Miles and Carter – goaded him mercilessly, walking up the flights of stairs behind her and Seth, making ribald comments about him being a virgin and did he know what he had it for and he might as well practise on the servants.

  ‘If you mean me,’ Emma said, turning to look back at them, ‘I’m not a servant. Dr Shaw has arranged for me to stay here for a little while. Until I’m stronger. Seeing as your pa has made me homeless, through no fault of my own.’

  ‘Ooh, she’s a mouthy one, Seth,’ Miles said. ‘Got something you could stick in her gob to shut her up?’

  ‘I’ve got something I’ll stick in yours in a minute,’ Seth said. ‘My fist.’

  ‘And your puny fist is going to frighten me?’ Miles taunted. ‘No one comes into this house unless Pa’s got a use for them, Seth, and you know it.’

  ‘Shut up, Miles,’ Seth bellowed at his brother. ‘Emma’s right – she’s not a servant. At the moment she’s a guest.’

  ‘Servant? Guest? What’s the difference? Nice tight little spirited one for you to practise on there, Seth,’ Carter commented. ‘Remember my tip about the gin.’

  ‘I don’t drink gin,’ Emma snapped. ‘Or any other spirits for that matter.’

  ‘Ignore them,’ Seth said. He placed a hand under Emma’s elbow to urge her onwards.

  But Emma was going nowhere for the moment. Seth’s brothers needed reminding of their manners, and tired as she was, Emma was going to do just that. Afraid she might be dizzy if she moved too quickly, Emma slowly turned around to face them. ‘Didn’t you two hear your brother?’

  ‘What? What?’ the brothers said, cupping their hands to their ears, giggling like schoolgirls and not the twenty-something men they were.

  ‘Obviously not,’ Emma said. ‘So, I’ll say it again – I’m not here to be a servant although I might give Mrs Drew a hand with some jobs to help pay for my keep if she needs me to. And
nobody’s going to do anything to me against my wishes. I hope you two understand the plain English of that.’

  ‘Not quite,’ Carter said. ‘Explain some more. Your bosom heaves up and down quite deliciously when you’re cross.’

  Emma sucked in her breath. She had no bosom to speak of really. But she folded her arms across her chest anyway. ‘I’ll say it in French if you’ll understand it better. Je ne suis pas …’

  ‘Come on, Emma,’ Seth said. ‘It’s only making them worse, standing up to them.’

  He put a protective arm around her then squeezed her shoulder, and Emma had a niggle of a suspicion that he might be trying to get his way with her by gentler, more subtle means. But she stayed within the protective curve of his arm. In the room, he laid Emma’s carpet bag on the bed. Then he drew thick woollen curtains together at the windows, before checking there was water in the jug for her to wash in the morning.

  ‘There’s water in taps downstairs,’ he said, ‘but not up here.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ Emma said. ‘I’m used to a jug and a bowl.’

  ‘You’re worth more than that, Emma,’ Seth said quietly. ‘And I’m sorry for the way my pa has treated you over Shingle Cottage, really I am.’

  Emma shrugged. What could she say? And if she did speak she had a feeling she might cry and no way did she want Seth Jago feeling sorry for her. She was surprised when he drew a small bar of chocolate from the pocket of his trousers.

  ‘I thought you might like this,’ he said.

  Emma had eaten chocolate once before and had found it bitter. But Seth was offering her a gift, and she would accept it with good grace. ‘Thank you.’ She took the chocolate, sniffed it. It smelled of almonds. And then she noticed the wording on it and her heart lifted. ‘Oh, it’s French! Where did you get this?’

  Eagerly she read the words, not needing to translate them into English, but understanding them for themselves. How good it felt. How close to her papa she felt reading them. Maybe she could buy more for herself somewhere close by when she had the funds.

  And then she realised Seth hadn’t answered her question.

  ‘Well, Seth?’ she asked. ‘Where did you get it? When I’ve got some pennies saved I think I’d like to buy some for myself if only you’ll tell me where I can. I haven’t seen any chocolate like this in Mrs Minifie’s sweet shop.’