A Place of Birds

by Jane Jackson

  Built along the side of several hills Falmouth’s streets ran in tiers parallel to the water. Crossing the terraces and descending narrow opes and flights of stone steps Susanna emerged at Church corner between the cab rank and the King’s Head hotel. The horses stood placidly, coats brushed, tack clean and polished, while the drivers sucked on their pipes and blew plumes of fragrant smoke through pursed lips as they chatted.

  Though it was not much after nine the town’s main thoroughfare was busy. Women with red chapped hands carrying baskets of fish or laundry screeched at children with runny noses and ragged oversized clothes to mind the carts thundering by on heavy iron wheels.

  Shopkeepers in dark suits or crisp white aprons smiled and wished her good morning as they stood in their doorways discussing trade while their apprentices washed down steps, windows and tiled entrances.

  The sickly sour reek of spilled beer and stale tobacco smoke billowed from one open door where the alehouse keeper was sweeping the previous night’s wet sawdust out onto the street. Within moments the golden drift had been ground into the dirt by passing wheels and tramping boots.

  On the opposite side of the road the gas works added its own pungency to the odours of new leather and wet paint, the sharp tang of ripe cheese and the rich aroma of roasting coffee.

  On the sea side of the street a group of men were busy with picks and shovels. As Susanna drew level with the recently started hole a passer-by alongside her bawled at one of them, ‘Dear life, Perce, what are ’e doing now? ’Tidn a week since you was all in a trench down Market Strand.’

  The workman squinted up. Leaning on his shovel he pushed back his flat cap and scratched his scalp before settling the cap in place once more. ‘Got another bleddy leak, ’aven’t us,’ he snorted. ‘I tell ’e, I spend so much time under this bleddy street I feel like a bleddy mole.’

  Suppressing a grin Susanna moved on. Beyond the bend in the road where Church Street became Market Street scorched rubble was all that remained of several shops and houses. The fire, rumoured to have started in a store behind the shops, had completely destroyed the buildings on the seaward side of the street creating a hole like a gaping mouth in which the blackened and broken masonry resembled stumps of rotten teeth.

  She paused alongside the imposing Doric columns and iron railings fronting the Falmouth Subscription rooms. Her father often met his ship’s captains here in an evening, preferring to keep business quite separate from domestic life. Though at this moment he was sure to be in his office several hundred yards away in Arwenack Street she could not prevent herself darting a wary guilt filled glance at the windows. Then, taking a deep breath, she crossed the road and entered the dark narrow passage that led up to Snow’s Court.

  The granite-lined gutter running down the steep cobbled court still bore traces of soapsuds and other less savoury waste. Lines of washing stretched from one side to the other attached to pulleys hammered into the walls of the cramped houses. Some of the small paned upstairs windows stood open and bedding hung over the sill to air.

  The front door of the house nearest her opened and a scrawny woman with a pale careworn face emerged wearing an apron made of coarse sacking over her grubby brown calico skirt. The sleeves of her blouse were rolled up and she leaned sideways against the weight of the bucket she was carrying.

  ‘Good morning,’ Susanna smiled. The woman looked at her briefly with no change of expression then tipped the contents of the bucket into the gutter. Susanna’s nostrils flared at the sour stench and she looked quickly away from the yellow stream. The woman turned to go in. ‘Excuse me,’ Susanna raised her voice. ‘Could you tell me where Mrs Treneer lives?’

  The woman gestured with her thumb to the next house and still without speaking went back inside.

  ‘Thank you so much,’ Susanna muttered and walked up the slippery cobbles to the stone step and knocked on the rough door.

  From inside a voice shouted, ‘Timmy, if you’re playing your silly games again, I’ll –’ The door was snatched open by a short sturdy woman with a rosy complexion and thick wheat-coloured hair pulled back into an untidy knot. ‘Oh,’ she blinked. ‘Sorry, dear, I thought you was –’ Then recognition spread across her face. ‘Why, Miss Elliot, what you doing here?’ Fear eclipsed her smile and one red, work-roughened hand flew to her mouth. ‘Is it Colin? Something gone wrong, has it?’

  Susanna shook her head quickly. ‘Not as far as I know. Actually I’ve come to ask if you are going in to see him today.’

  Molly Treneer’s eyes closed in relief. Beneath her white apron her sprigged blouse and navy skirt were faded, but both looked clean and fresh and had been carefully mended.

  ‘Yes, I’m going in this afternoon. ’Ere, George told me what you done and how you was helping the doctor. Never seen nothing like it he said. And the doctor told un when he went in yesterday, if it ’adn’t been fer you …’

  Edward had praised her to George? Susanna hid her pleasure lest it should seem like vain pride but there was a warm glow in the pit of her stomach.

  Molly’s eyes brimmed suddenly. ‘It don’t bear thinking about.’ Snatching up the hem of her apron she wiped away her tears. ‘Look at me. Some daft I am.’ She tried to smile but her lips trembled. ‘’Tidn like ’e died. The doctor says ’e got a good chance. It’s just –’

  ‘It must have been a dreadful shock for you.’ Susanna glanced up and down the cobbled court and saw that several women had come out of their houses. One was sweeping her front doorstep while two others checked to see if their washing was dry. While appearing to ignore her, their curiosity and suspicion were obvious. ‘Do you think I might come in for a moment?’

  Molly stepped back at once pulling the door wider. ‘Where’s me manners? ’Tidn what you’re used to, mind.’

  Sympathising with a defensive pride she understood only too well Susanna simply ignored it.

  ‘I won’t keep you a moment. I expect you’re busy. But it is important.’

  ‘You’d best sit down.’ Molly gestured to the high backed wooden settle standing at right-angles to the deep hearth where a large blackened pot hung from an iron hook over a crackling fire. Though gloomy the small room was warm and clean. ‘I ’aven’t long been back meself.’

  ‘Have you been shopping?’

  Molly’s laugh was harsh. ‘No, my ’andsome. I do my shopping at the end of the day when things is cheapest. I been out cleaning since five.’ She pulled a wooden chair from beneath the scrubbed table and sagged wearily onto it. ‘The fishing haven’t been good lately. We was all right when I had my job at Geach’s. But the fire put paid to that.’ She tucked stray wisps of hair up into the knot at the back of her head.

  ‘What happens to your other children while you’re out?’

  ‘If George is fishing I drop them down mother’s. They aren’t left to fend for theirselves,’ she added quickly. ‘I don’t hold with that. Since Mary had the measles she can’t hear proper. And Jennet is a real ’andful. Father is good as gold with them. If the tide’s out he takes them down where the coasters unload to pick up coal from the beach. Mr Johns do pretend not to notice. Partial to sea bass he is,’ Molly tapped the side of her nose, ‘so George see him right. But now we won’t have Colin’s money coming in.’ Her face creased with worry.

  ‘That’s partly why I’m here,’ Susanna said.

  Molly’s back straightened. ‘We don’t want no charity. Don’t take me wrong. But George don’t hold with that.’

  ‘No, that wasn’t – The truth is I’ve come to ask for your help.’

  ‘Me? Help you?’

  Susanna nodded and explained her need for a chaperone on her visits to the Infirmary. Excitement stirred as another idea began taking shape at the back of her mind. But she wouldn’t mention it yet. One step at a time. ‘So could we meet at Church corner? Say two o’clock?’

  As Molly ducked her head in agreement Susanna added, ‘I’d like to bring something. I thought perhaps some fruit, a dozen eg
gs and maybe a cake? It’s not charity,’ she insisted hastily. ‘After all, it is you who are helping me. It’s simply a token of appreciation. Please?’ She stood up and on impulse held out her hand.

  After a moment’s hesitation Molly gave a decisive nod. ‘All right then.’ Wiping her palm quickly on her apron she gripped Susanna’s.

  As the family ate their midday meal Susanna waited for an opportune moment to make her announcement. Swallowing the last mouthful of his apple pie and custard her father wiped his mouth with his napkin then turned to her.

  ‘And what will you be doing this afternoon?’

  Susanna had thought long and hard about the best way to phrase it. She didn’t feel comfortable with an outright lie. But nor could she risk her father doubting that her actions were driven by a genuine desire to be of help to others. If one of those she helped was Edward, and if in helping him she found pleasure, was that so wrong? ‘I am accompanying Mrs Treneer to visit her son. She is naturally most anxious about his condition.’

  Samuel frowned. ‘How did this arrangement come about?’

  ‘I saw her when I was in town this morning doing some shopping for mother.’ Susanna saw her mother nod in reply to her father’s questioning glance. ‘Apparently Mr Treneer told his wife of my help when Colin arrived at the Infirmary. As he is out fishing he cannot accompany her and she is worried about going to the Infirmary by herself. She knows I have been a regular visitor.’

  ‘I see. Presumably Mrs Treneer will wish to visit her son as often as she can?’

  Susanna’s mouth felt dry. ‘I imagine so. They seem to be a very close family.’

  ‘Do they have other children?’ Frances asked.

  ‘Two little girls of ten and six. The elder one is deaf.’

  Samuel pushed his chair back and stood up. ‘I have no objection to you accompanying Mrs Treneer. I’m sure that when it is time for her to leave she will be comforted by your presence.’ He glanced across at his wife. ‘I know myself how hard it is to leave the bedside of a loved one who is suffering.’

  This rarely revealed side to her father startled and intrigued Susanna, hinting at an aspect of her parents’ relationship only they knew.

  ‘Thank you, Father.’ She lowered her eyes demurely to hide her relief. But he had made himself abundantly clear. Her visits to the Infirmary could continue on one condition: she was to arrive and leave with Molly Treneer.

  Forty minutes later Susanna escorted her chaperone through the Infirmary door and along the passage. Though Molly’s head was high she was visibly nervous.

  As they passed the side ward Susanna saw Albert was pushing a mop over the bleached floorboards. He glanced up, clicking his tongue.

  ‘I think the doctor believe I got four pairs of ’ands. Tis too much fer one person. I can’t be everywhere at once.’

  Initially Susanna had worried about Albert who gave the impression of being seriously overworked. Her tentative questions had elicited a knowing smile from Edward. ‘Albert loves his job. Complaining is his way of making sure we understand how necessary he is. You watch him. When all the beds are full, or we have an emergency operation that means extra cleaning up on top of his usual work, he manages his duties with surprising speed. Equally, when the ward is quiet he has perfected the knack of expanding each task to take much longer so he still appears very busy.’

  Susanna had been amazed to observe that Edward was right. Now when Albert grumbled either she smiled and ignored his moans knowing he didn’t really mean them, or commiserated and told him how much he was appreciated.

  ‘It’s marvellous how you cope, Albert.’

  ‘Good job someone think so,’ he grunted.

  ‘Is Doctor Arundell in his office?’

  Albert leaned on his mop. ‘He’ve gone ’ome fer a bath and change of clothes. Here all night he was. Wanted to keep an eye on the youngster. Then this one went.’ He jerked his thumb over his shoulder and Susanna saw the bed that had been occupied by the Portuguese was stripped to the bare frame. ‘Good thing too,’ Albert was matter-of-fact. ‘He was in some bad way. Any’ow what with one thing and another, the doctor wadn off his feet fer nigh on twenty-four hours. He’ll be back again directly.’ His gaze switched to Molly. ‘How ’e doing, then?’

  ‘With my boy in ’ere? How do ’e think?’

  Like Molly’s husband, Albert came from a fishing family but intractable seasickness had prevented him joining his brothers. Learning of this Susanna had immediately understood his need to feel that the Infirmary could not run without him.

  ‘Always something, innit?’ Albert sighed sympathetically. ‘Still, ’e idn doing too bad. Least ’e’s still ’ere.’ With these words of intended comfort he went back to his mopping.

  Taking Molly’s arm Susanna piloted her into the main ward. The Portuguese’s death had shaken her. She wasn’t sure why. Everyone had expected it. And during the few minutes she had spent with him his suffering had been dreadful to watch.

  ‘What’s the matter? Something wrong is it?’ Molly’s voice was thin and nervous.

  ‘No, not at all. Here we are.’ As they entered the ward two of the patients glanced in their direction. Another was huddled under the covers snoring. ‘Good afternoon,’ Susanna smiled, receiving mumbled greetings in return.

  Colin’s bed was nearest the door, the bedclothes humped over a frame which kept all weight off his legs. He was propped up on pillows, his face chalk white but for dark circles like sooty thumbprints beneath his closed eyes.

  ‘Dear life, my poor little man. What do ’e look like?’

  Susanna pulled the wooden chair round so Molly could face her son. ‘Sit down, you’ll be much more comfortable. I expect Doctor Arundell has given him something for the pain. But if you talk he’ll be able to hear you.’

  ‘Honest?’ Molly whispered, visibly uneasy as she glanced over her shoulder at the other occupants of the ward who, with touching courtesy, looked quickly away.

  Susanna smiled. ‘Yes, really.’

  ‘What shall I talk about?’ Molly hissed, twisting the basket handle so it creaked beneath her gleaming knuckles.

  Pressing her gently down Susanna put the basket by her feet. ‘Just tell him what the family’s been doing: the kind of things you would tell him if he’d been away for a while. It’s the sound of your voice that’s important.’

  Molly swivelled round admiring and curious. ‘How d’you know all this stuff?’

  Susanna lifted her shoulders. ‘I’ve watched. And I’ve talked to the men after the doctor has given them medicines to ease their pain. They looked just like Colin does now. But they told me later that it gave them great comfort to hear my voice. I expect you’d like some privacy, so –’

  Molly tensed. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Just across the passage to fetch pen and paper in case any of the sailors want letters written. I’ll only be a moment.’

  Albert had finished his mopping. The window in the small room stood half open and cool air blowing over the wet boards carried the acrid smell of chloride of lime to Susanna’s nostrils.

  ‘You’ve certainly done a very thorough job.’

  ‘Doctor’s orders. Before I come in ’ere I ’ad to burn the mattress and put all the bedding in to soak in that there carbolic stuff.’

  Unease stirred in Susanna. ‘Whatever for? Usually sulphur candles are enough to –’

  ‘I ’abn got time to stand ’ere yapping. I need four pairs of ’ands fer all I got to do.’ Snatching up the mop and bucket he shut the door and hurried away down the passage.

  Susanna stared after him in astonishment. She had never seen him move so fast. As she started across the passage towards the dispensary the outside door opened and Edward entered. His posture betrayed a weariness that wrenched her heart. Then he looked up.

  Chapter Nine

  ‘Good afternoon, Susanna.’

  After the quick warmth in his eyes this polite formality was a crushing disappointment. With a c
alm that had all the strength and resilience of an eggshell she folded her hands.

  ‘Good afternoon, Edward. What marvellous news.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I was just talking to Albert. He says Colin is stable. Well, he’s still here was how he put it. I gather you worked all night.’

  ‘I must speak to Albert about his gossiping.’

  ‘It wasn’t gossip. Truly. He was simply saying how busy you had been. Your dedication to your patients should be a source of pride. It is certainly not a weakness to be hidden.’ She broke off, her cheeks burning. She hadn’t meant to say so much. But she desperately wanted him to understand she was not an outsider to be kept at a distance.

  The corners of his mouth flickered. ‘I stand rebuked. But is pride not a sin? Forgive me, I should not tease. At least there has been no deterioration. That alone is cause for hope.’

  ‘I’m so glad for you.’ She made no attempt to hide her admiration.

  As their eyes locked the crease between his brows deepened. ‘Susanna –’

  ‘Mrs Treneer came in with me.’ She said it quickly. It was enough that she had penetrated his armour of professional reserve. Her happiness was so intense she imagined it radiating from her like sunlight. ‘I took her through to the ward so she could sit with her son. I hope that was all right?’

  Edward nodded. Detecting a trace of relief Susanna guessed he was glad she had recognised the need while in the Infirmary to keep their relation-ship strictly professional. It wasn’t easy, for when else did she see him?

  ‘Her presence will comfort him. Other than relieve his pain there is little I can do until it is time to change the dressings. Will she be able to visit regularly?’

  ‘I hope so,’ Susanna said fervently. ‘For if she can’t then I won’t be able to come either.’

  He looked startled. ‘Why not? I thought – not two days ago you were asking to work in the dispensary. Was it the operation? I realise that –’

  ‘It has nothing to do with the operation. Nor is it my choice to stay away. Do you really think me so weak and fickle?’ She did not give him the chance to respond. ‘It seems I have embarrassed my father by visiting the Infirmary without a chaperone.’