A Place to Call Home

by Evie Grace

Chapter Five

  Ostrich Plumes and Silver Trappings

  The house was strangely quiet the next morning, the clock in the hall having stopped. Rose crept downstairs and tiptoed past the dining room where the door was closed to find Jane in the kitchen with her back to her as she took a copper pan from the old pine dresser.

  ‘Have you seen Pa?’ Rose asked, wondering if he had managed to get up and go to the tannery for work as usual.

  ‘He’s gorn,’ Jane muttered.

  The doctor had worked a miracle after all, Rose thought.

  ‘Oh Rose …’ The pan fell clattering to the floor and the maid sank to her knees, her shoulders shaking. Slowly, she turned to face her, tears pouring down her cheeks. Rose’s heart missed a beat, and then another …

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Jane sobbed. ‘The master – he passed during the night. In the early hours.’

  Rose ran to the dining room and pushed the door open. Ma was standing at the table bent over her husband, her arms around his neck. Pa was lying still, his eyelids closed with coins, his body shrouded with a white sheet, and his mouth open as if he was about to speak.

  Rose hesitated. The silence was truly terrible.

  ‘Oh,’ she gasped and burst into tears.

  ‘I don’t believe it. This isn’t happening,’ Ma cried as she straightened and stroked his hair. ‘My dearest love, wake up and tell me this is one of your games.’

  Rose felt her mother’s pain like a knife through her breast.

  Ma shook her head. ‘I don’t understand – it was all so quick. I don’t think he ever woke up.’

  ‘Ma? Rose? Jane came to wake me. Tell me it isn’t true.’ Arthur, still wearing his nightshirt, approached the table, thrusting his fist into his mouth to muffle a howl of grief.

  ‘His soul has flown, taken up to Heaven by the angels,’ Rose tried to explain, but it was inexplicable. How could a man who had been in rude health only a day or two before, have succumbed in such a short time? ‘The twins. We have to tell them.’

  Arthur took a deep breath to recover his wits.

  ‘That can wait until later – I’ve told Jane not to disturb them just yet,’ he said. ‘Ma, have you sent for the doctor?’

  Ma shook her head. ‘What can he do? It is too late.’

  ‘He will need to write a certificate.’ Arthur turned back to Rose. ‘I’ll go and get him. You stay here with Ma.’

  Arthur left Willow Place as Mrs Dunn arrived for work.

  ‘Oh my Lord,’ she said. ‘Who would have thought? Mrs Cheevers, you must sit down and take some brandy.’

  Ma refused, shaking her head.

  ‘It just goes to show,’ Mrs Dunn kept saying. Rose didn’t have the heart to ask her what she meant. It didn’t show anything as far as she was concerned except that life was short and should never be taken for granted.

  It wasn’t long before the twins came running down the stairs. Rose pushed past the housekeeper to try to intercept them before they reached the dining room, but it was too late.

  ‘Ma? Pa?’ Donald said, looking past Rose’s shoulder as she stood blocking the doorway. ‘Is he worse?’

  ‘Oh!’ Minnie exclaimed. ‘Ma, why are you crying?’ She dodged past her sister and went straight to the table. ‘Is he sleeping?’

  ‘No, my dears,’ Ma said softly as Rose took Donald’s hand and led him to join them. ‘He has passed.’

  ‘He’s dead?’ said Donald, frowning. ‘He can’t be.’

  Minnie started to cry. Ma took her into her arms, but nothing could console her. Donald stood stony-faced.

  ‘The doctor is here,’ Mrs Dunn said in hushed tones. ‘Please, make way for him.’

  Doctor Norris approached the table and touched his fingertips to the side of Pa’s neck before turning to Ma.

  ‘I’m very sorry for your tragic loss, Mrs Cheevers. Your husband has been taken from you far too young. I will certify the death as being from fulminant fever caused by hide-carrier’s disease,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Someone will pay for this,’ Ma said. ‘I should have made him send those hides back. I knew it was a mistake.’

  Rose glanced at Arthur who had bowed his head. He shouldn’t feel guilty, she thought. No one could have predicted the outcome.

  ‘I should have insisted that we called you out sooner,’ Ma wailed.

  ‘It would have made no difference. You mustn’t blame yourself.’ Doctor Norris turned to Arthur.

  ‘We will look after her,’ he said. ‘What happens next?’

  ‘I should ask the funeral director to call at Willow Place at the earliest opportunity. I can recommend Randall and Sons – they are professional and respectful.’

  ‘Thank you, Doctor. We’re very grateful for your attendance on our beloved—’ Arthur broke off and swallowed hard before he could go on, ‘—father.’

  ‘I will write out the certificate to be presented to the coroner. I don’t believe there will be any need for an inquest.’

  Mrs Dunn saw Doctor Norris out, and seeing that Ma was in no fit state to do anything, Rose hid the despair she was feeling inside and stepped into her shoes. It was her duty to put on a brave face for her family.

  ‘Arthur, you go and speak to the funeral director,’ she said. ‘Minnie and Donald, you must fetch the Kingsleys.’

  ‘I can’t do anything,’ Minnie said mournfully. ‘My heart is broken.’

  ‘Your legs aren’t, though,’ Donald said. ‘Come with me. They need to know what’s happened – our aunt has lost a brother and Mr Kingsley will need to make arrangements with Arthur for running the business.’

  ‘Thank you, Donald,’ Rose said. ‘I’ll go and write to Aunt Marjorie straight away.’

  ‘She will be here in a day or two …’ Arthur’s voice trailed off.

  ‘For the wedding,’ Rose whispered. ‘Oh Arthur, what will you and Tabby do?’

  ‘I’m more worried about what we’ll all do without Pa,’ he said, his eyes dark with misery. ‘I’ll speak to Tabby later. I’m going to order the men to destroy those hides – we can’t let this happen to anyone else. And what about the school? We need to let the pupils know that it’ll be closed for a few days, at least until after the funeral. I’ll put a notice on the door on my way to the undertaker.’

  ‘Mrs Dunn, will you sit with my mother?’ Rose asked.

  ‘Of course. I’ll look after her.’ The housekeeper wiped the tears from her eyes. ‘I was very fond of your father. He was a lovely gentleman.’

  Rose escaped into Pa’s study and sat at his desk. She rested her fingertips on the leather surface and breathed in the faint scent of musk and sweet earth that reminded her of her father.

  ‘How will we be happy without you?’ she whispered, her heart breaking into a thousand pieces as she gave in to her grief. ‘Dear Pa …’

  Trying to pull herself together, she opened the drawer and selected a piece of paper and an envelope, dipped her pen in the inkwell, and began to write. When fresh tears dropped like rain on to the paper and mingled with the ink, she had to blot them and start again.

  Dear Aunt Marjorie, she wrote.

  I thought you should know that our dear father passed away during the night. Ma is in no state to write or speak to anyone. Do come quickly if you can.

  Your loving Rose

  Having addressed and sealed the envelope, she put it aside ready for Donald to post – she couldn’t help thinking that it would be good for all of them to keep busy.

  There was a stream of callers at the house that day. Mrs Dunn and Jane were like guard dogs, only letting in a selected few: the undertaker, the Kingsleys and Reverend Holdsworth among them.

  ‘It would be wise to postpone the wedding, unless there is some reason why it has to be done in a hurry,’ Aunt Temperance said as she sipped brandy in the parlour with Ma, having managed to persuade her to leave Pa’s side for a while. Mr Kingsley was there too, topping up his glass from the decanter.

  ‘I wouldn’t normally drink
during the day, but today is the exception,’ he said, noticing how Rose stared at him. ‘Please accept my sympathies for your loss. It is a terrible tragedy for us all.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Ma said miserably. ‘I don’t know what to do for the best.’ Even though she was an intelligent and educated woman, she had always deferred to their father when it came to important decisions. She seemed completely lost without him.

  ‘I shall be delighted to run the business until young Arthur is ready to return to work,’ Mr Kingsley said. ‘Well, not exactly delighted in these circumstances,’ he went on when his wife gave him a dig in the ribs.

  ‘Arthur has much to attend to here,’ Rose said, looking at her brother.

  ‘Mr Randall will be here soon to talk through the funeral arrangements,’ he said.

  ‘Ah, the Randalls gave my grandfather a good send-off. Do you remember, Agnes?’

  Ma blew into her handkerchief and broke into a fresh burst of sobbing. Rose glared at her aunt. Sometimes she wondered if she had any control over the words that came out of her mouth. Did she have no idea of the offence she caused, or was she deliberately cruel?

  ‘Whatever you decide, a balance should be struck between showing respect and limiting expense.’ Aunt Temperance dabbed at the corner of her eye with a handkerchief. ‘I’m going to miss my darling brother.’ She paused for a moment, then continued, ‘I expect you will wish to move out of Willow Place now that he is gone, Agnes.’

  ‘Oh no, it’s my home. The only way I’ll leave here is in a box.’

  ‘Ma, please don’t,’ Rose begged, her heart aching. They had just lost one parent and she couldn’t bear to think of losing another.

  ‘Please, have some respect for your brother’s wife,’ Mr Kingsley said. ‘Dare I venture that you have gone too far?’

  ‘No, you dare not,’ Aunt Temperance snapped back. He was under petticoat government for certain. ‘It was a perfectly reasonable question.’

  ‘More tea or brandy, anyone?’ Arthur asked hastily to change the subject.

  ‘I am drowning in tea,’ Ma snapped, ‘and I cannot stomach another brandy.’

  ‘I think we should take our leave for now.’ Mr Kingsley stood up. ‘If there is anything we can help with, don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll go back to the yard to report the news to the men.’

  ‘I will accompany you, Mr Kingsley,’ Aunt Temperance said.

  The Kingsleys left as Mr Randall from Randall and Sons arrived at the house. Rose fetched a fresh pot of tea, placing the tray on the low table beside Ma’s chair. She poured the tea into fine bone china cups: one with milk and two lumps of sugar for Arthur and one with milk only at the undertaker’s request.

  Having handed out the cups, she picked up the tray to retreat, but Arthur raised his arm to stay her.

  ‘I’d appreciate it if you remained here with us,’ he said quietly. ‘Ma needs our support.’

  She felt a little nauseous. The spoils of death had made the middle-aged Mr Randall quite the dandy, strutting into their home in his top hat and tails, and with a black cane topped with a silver fox. She thought she could smell the scent of death on the undertaker’s weasel-like person, welling up through the dense weave of his suit, but she didn’t like to abandon Arthur if he needed her. She put the tray down again and took a seat opposite her mother, who sat immobile, mute and paralysed by grief.

  ‘Ma, would you like to explain to Mr Randall what you require in the way of the funeral arrangements?’ Arthur said eventually, but Ma didn’t respond. ‘Perhaps you will guide us, Mr Randall,’ he went on. ‘I’m afraid I’m out of my depth.’

  ‘That is exactly what I am here for.’ Mr Randall placed his tea untouched on the floor beside his feet. ‘I and my father and brothers pride ourselves on our service. I can advise you on every aspect of the process, detail by detail. Nothing is left to chance. You get what you pay for: the privilege of personal attention and years of experience.’

  ‘Ma,’ Arthur said gently. ‘How much do you think we should spend?’

  ‘What did you say?’ Ma looked up, wringing a sodden handkerchief.

  ‘Ah, that is a question I can answer for you, Mrs Cheevers. As a general rule, the expense should be decided according to the wealth and social standing of the person,’ Mr Randall said. ‘As a businessman of great reputation and renown, Mr Cheevers was looked up to by many.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Ma said, choking on fresh tears.

  ‘He would have wanted a simple ceremony. He wasn’t one for making a fuss,’ Rose ventured.

  ‘It is important to give a man the kind of send-off that befits his station,’ Mr Randall said quickly. ‘Due to the nature of dying, one has but one chance to give a beloved family member a right and proper funeral. It would be a travesty and a matter of eternal regret to you in the future, if you should make unreasonable economies at this sensitive time.’

  ‘I wish for him to have the best of everything, no expense spared,’ Ma said, her mind apparently made up.

  ‘Are you sure, Ma?’ Arthur cut in, giving Rose a glance.

  ‘I shall leave the details to you and Mr Randall. I don’t want the bother of it.’

  In a way it was a relief that Ma recognised that she was overwhelmed and unable to make rational decisions about the minutiae of the arrangements, such as when the embalming should be done and how many carriages and bearers they would need.

  ‘I would recommend that the horses are dressed in ostrich plumes and black and silver trappings to make a suitable impression,’ Mr Randall said.

  Rose gazed at Arthur and gave a quick shake of her head. No plumes. No silver. Pa wouldn’t have wanted everyone to think the Cheeverses would waste money that could be used for the greater good on fripperies, but Mr Randall was already scribing copious notes.

  Ma went on to choose an oak coffin and a headstone from Mr Randall’s brochure. Before he left the house, he reminded her that it was usual to place an announcement in the newspaper, and that an arrangement should be made for the reading of Pa’s will.

  Rose continued with her tasks, choosing invitation cards, decorated with urns and weeping willow, and ringed with black borders, to send out to their friends, family and acquaintances. She asked Minnie and Mrs Dunn to organise clothes suitable for mourning and sent Donald out for black crepe and black ribbon to tie on the door knob to signal that death had entered Willow Place, and to remind visitors to speak softly, not jar the nerves of those who were grieving.

  Later, she met with Arthur on the veranda at the back of the house.

  ‘Did you see Tabby?’ she asked.

  ‘I’ve spoken to her and Mr and Mrs Miskin and it’s been agreed that the wedding should be postponed for a while. I’ve seen Bert too and he’s returning to London tomorrow rather than stay for the funeral. Rose, you have been wonderful today. I’m very proud to call you my sister. The twins have done well too, and I will tell them so. Life will never be quite the same, but it will go on, and one day, we will be happy again.’

  ‘Even Ma?’ she said softly.

  ‘Even Ma,’ he echoed.

  Her heart was heavy as she wrote a second letter to Aunt Marjorie explaining about the wedding and giving the date of Pa’s funeral. When she retired to bed that evening, she and Minnie put the patchwork away, tucking it beneath one of the mattresses.

  ‘I don’t think we’ll be working on it for a while,’ Rose said. ‘My heart isn’t in it.’

  ‘But it won’t be ready,’ Minnie said.

  ‘Arthur and Tabby have decided to delay the wedding. We’ll have plenty of time to finish it.’ Finding it hard to stay strong for her siblings, Rose turned away to hide her tears. With one broken stitch, their patchwork family was unravelling, and Rose sensed that nothing would be the same again.

  The day of Pa’s funeral dawned grey and wet. The rain, falling like stair rods, hammered against the windows of the parlour, where they had placed his coffin.

  ‘Heaven has never shed so
many tears,’ Mrs Dunn said when Rose went downstairs, wearing her dress made from midnight-blue muslin, the closest she had to full mourning attire. ‘Does Mrs Cheevers need anything?’

  ‘She is dressed, thank you.’ She’d persuaded Ma to wash her hair in salted rainwater and rinse it with beer the night before. She had left her looking pale in her dress of black bombazine trimmed with crepe, and a stone of jet in her hair. She glanced at the clock which had been stopped at the exact time that Pa had been pronounced dead, wondering when they would allow its pendulum to start swinging again.

  ‘I had Jane mix up a pomade for the lips. I will ask her to take it up.’ Mrs Dunn bustled away, then returned to the hall when the doorbell rang a moment later. ‘Look at all these cards,’ she exclaimed as she collected them up from the doormat and placed them on the salver. ‘Can’t any of these people find the courage to engage in conversation with your dear ma? She could do with being taken out of herself. She is making herself ill with grief.’ A knock at the door distracted her. Still grumbling under her breath, she walked across to open it.

  ‘Good morning, Miss Treen,’ she said. ‘Thank goodness you have come. Arthur, Rose and the twins are doing their best, but the mistress is falling apart.’

  ‘That will be all for now, Mrs Dunn.’ Rose turned to their guest and relieved her of her stick. ‘Aunt Marjorie, come in.’

  ‘Mind your backs,’ Donald said, carrying her luggage into the hall and straight on up the stairs to the room Arthur had vacated for her visit.

  ‘How are you, Rose?’ Aunt Marjorie asked, removing her bonnet and gloves.

  ‘I’m bearing up, thank you,’ she said, summoning the strength to fight the tears that welled up at the sight of their loving aunt.

  ‘How is my dear, dear Agnes?’

  ‘I wish I could say that she was coping. I’m so glad you’re here. I think she will respond to you.’

  ‘I will see what I can do. How are the arrangements? I assume that Temperance has been giving you some assistance with those?’

  Rose shook her head.

  Aunt Marjorie frowned. ‘I thought she would have been here, interfering to her heart’s content. Never mind. How is the school?’