A Family Affair
Page 14
Chapter 10
By the time Clover emerged in her hat and coat from the Jolly Collier later that morning the temperature had risen appreciably. The beautiful September day was mild with a light breeze and hazy sunshine. She had heard the pulsing of the engine outside and had gone out excitedly, ready to be whisked along in this, her first outing in a motor car. But it was a strange sight she beheld. The motor car, a Sunbeam 16/20, was towing a long trailer made of wood and covered in the same canvas she herself had used to cover wings for Ned Brisco. She knew, of course, that it contained the Gull.
‘Hop on board then, Miss,’ Joseph Mantle instructed matily over the clatter of the idling engine.
‘Morning, Mr Mantle.’ She smiled and rushed round the car to where Ned Brisco was standing with the rear door open.
‘Morning, Ned,’
‘Morning, Clover.’
When she was sitting and had pulled a car rug over her legs the car pulled away. The wind, cool around her neck, prompted her to pull up her collar and settle her hat more firmly on her head.
‘How far is it?’
‘About fourteen miles, Clover, according to Mr Mantle.’
‘Will it take us long to get there?’
‘About half an hour,’ Joseph replied over his shoulder.
Joseph and Ned talked mostly about motors, using words Clover did not understand. They were discussing the internal combustion engine and how nobody in the area was producing one that was suitable for use in an aeroplane.
‘Not surprising really,’ Ned commented. ‘Since there’s hardly anybody building aeroplanes.’
‘There’s several firms constructing motor cars, Ned,’ Joseph said. ‘Notably Sunbeam – who built this one – and the Star Motor Company. Both in Wolverhampton as you know. But it’s my belief that only Star are producing their own engines.’
‘I know, Mr Mantle. I already checked.’
‘You could always import an engine, Ned. Didn’t you tell me there’s a French one?’
‘The Antoinette. But I couldn’t afford one of them. I bet they cost getting on for eight or nine hundred pounds.’
‘For an engine?’ Clover queried, looking from one to the other.
‘For a specialist aeroplane engine, Clover,’ Ned said, turning round in the front seat to see her. ‘They only build them in ones and twos. Even the Wright Brothers had to build their own engine. It’s a pity a car engine couldn’t be modified. I daresay I could pick one up for about twenty quid.’
‘It’s just a shame that nobody’s took interest yet in what you’re doing, Ned,’ Joseph went on and crashed the gears as he tried to change down to negotiate the corner at King Street. ‘Still, there’s no reason why you couldn’t approach one of the firms yourself. Even one of the motorcycle makers.’
Ned shook his head. ‘No, a motorcycle engine would be no good. Not enough power. I like the idea of an air-cooled engine, though. Save on weight. I’d want somebody who could test airscrew design as well. It needs a firm with the right facilities.’
‘And the resources,’ Joseph suggested astutely.
‘Not to mention the will, Mr Mantle…Actually, there’s an Antoinette engine already in the country. They’re using it to propel that dirigible, the Nulli Secundus.’
‘Couldn’t you borrow it?’ Joseph suggested seriously.
Ned laughed. ‘They ain’t gonna lend it me, Mr Mantle. I found out there’s a bloke called Cody, an American, waiting to borrow it for trials on a military aircraft he’s built for the army – at somewhere called Farnborough. If he can’t get his hands on it, I’m damned sure I can’t.’
Clover listened, so sorry that she could be of no help in Ned’s quest. She knew precious little about powered flight and nothing at all about the technicalities. As they spoke she enjoyed the exhilaration of riding by motorcar, however; the wind in her face, the envious, admiring looks from passers-by, the reassuring, rhythmic thrash of pistons and tappets. Before long they had passed the splendid Georgian buildings of Wolverhampton Street that housed the professional offices of solicitors and banks. Beyond the poorer houses and back yards of Eve Hill she had sight of the countryside. But they would not reach it until they had travelled the rough and undulating road flanked by pit banks and brickyards that led to Himley. After three or four miles, a fine Palladian mansion became visible through a slatted wooden fence, serene in its ochre livery on their right – Himley Hall, residence of the Earl of Dudley. In its magnificent park, laid out by Capability Brown, the sun glinted off the lake between ornamental trees and Clover decided she had never seen any place quite so beautiful.
But even here in this tranquil rurality, the tentacles of industry had spread inexorably. Railway tracks that served the brickyards and the collieries they had already passed scarred the landscape, connecting like an iron web, interlacing over and under bridges. Further on in Wall Heath, wheat and barley was being cut and harvested and placed in stooks. In another field a steam-driven threshing machine pulsed and flailed and hissed asthmatically, while a pack of ragged children watched the motorcar in awe. Joseph slowed the car down as they negotiated lanes that were little more than dirt tracks and little hump-backed bridges built of brick that spanned locks and canals. At one such place, called Ashwood, bargees, the lock-keeper and farmhands alike enjoyed a drink together in the sunshine outside a public house called the Navigation, but all turned to watch the Sunbeam go by with its long, mysterious trailer. The further they travelled the fewer people they saw. Eventually, they reached a village called Bobbington and shortly after came upon a farmhouse with its ancient brick-built barns.
‘Here we are,’ Joseph announced and drew the motorcar to a halt in the yard.
A man in moleskin trousers and waistcoat and a woman wearing a flowery apron left the house and approached them, smiling. When Joseph and Ned had alighted from the motor car and shaken their hands, they turned to Clover and asked if she would like a cup of tea. Joseph then introduced Clover to his cousin, Fred Woodall, and his wife, Amy. When the ritual of tea and lively conversation was through they all trooped out into the yard again and Fred climbed into the motor car alongside Joseph. Ned and Clover sat in the rear. Fred directed them along the lane to a gate and they turned in. The field they beheld was flat and wide and only in the far distance could Clover see a hedge surrounding it. Near the gate stood a barn.
‘You can keep your flying machine in there,’ Fred announced.
Ned smiled. ‘Is it dry?’
‘Dry as a lime-burner’s clog. And it’ll be safe enough. We never see anybody down here.’
Ned stepped down from the motor car and began unpacking and assembling the Gull. Meanwhile, Joseph and Fred discussed the towing of the glider. Because the field was flat and fallow, Joseph decided that he would use his car to tow rather than Fred’s van, since it was nicely warmed up and they could easily enough attach the rope that Ned had brought to the rear. Clover helped Ned as best she could and soon the Gull was ready. He went to talk to the two men.
‘I’m not really sure how fast we need to go, but I reckon we’ll need to be going more than thirty miles an hour before I get airborne,’ he said to Joseph. ‘So once you’ve reached about thirty, check to see.’
So they attached the rope in a coil to the car, and the other end to the tow hook Ned had devised that was situated beneath the aeroplane. By knocking up a lever, the hook would tilt downwards and allow the rope to fall back to the ground once he was airborne. Ned clambered up into his creation and gave the signal to go. Joseph eased the motorcar forward until the rope was taut then, gently, Ned felt the Gull move.
His pulse started racing. Never before had he attempted getting airborne this way. As the speed increased the ride became progressively bumpier over the uneven grass. The Gull shook and creaked and rattled until suddenly, as if by magic, it all went smooth and quiet as the nose of his precious craft tilted upwards. A grin spread over his face. He looked around him. The ground was getting further a
way. The lane that ran along the side of the field seemed to be getting narrower, its hedge thinner. The tension on the rope was beginning to tug at the aircraft so he tilted the lever as planned and peered over the side again to see the rope drifting downwards.
He was flying, he was flying. How high he was, he did not know. He experimented by gently pushing and pulling the lever that controlled the flaps on one side and noticed the difference it made to his trajectory. He played with the rudder and felt the Gull begin to yaw. At once he corrected it.
Roll.
Of course, if you wanted to turn you had to roll. Control in roll. He knew that. He’d read about it often enough. But he’d never had chance to experience it before.
All around him the land was flat. He seemed to have miles in which to play, in which to fly. He could fly just as long as he could keep airborne but, without an engine, how long might that be? His speed decreased as the nose went up, as if to stall, so he quickly adjusted the elevators and sent the aeroplane on a slight downward path to pick up speed. Try a roll. Try a turn. He applied the lever that controlled the rudder, and the one that lifted the elevators on the left hand side. The Gull keeled over to the right and turned quite sharply. He laughed aloud as he levelled out again. What a sensation! It worked. By God, it worked. He’d never been absolutely certain before that it would – for him. It worked for the Wright brothers, but they used a different method, twisting the wings by warping to achieve the same result. But now he knew this method worked as well…
He was descending and didn’t have enough height to repeat the manoeuvre. He must be only twenty or thirty feet above the ground now. Best land and get Joseph to tow him up for another flight. So he gently allowed the Gull to sail downwards until he felt again the bumpiness of the field and heard again the subsequent creaking and groaning of the construction. At least this landing business was easy.
He came to a halt and looked around for the motor car. Joseph and Fred and Clover were all grinning with admiration as the Sunbeam approached across the field.
‘Did you see me turn?’ Ned yelled over the sound of the motor car’s engine as it pulled up alongside.
‘Exquisite,’ Joseph Mantle called. ‘Do you want another tow?’
‘Please, Mr Mantle.’
‘I’ll attach the rope,’ Clover said and enthusiastically jumped down from the car.
Joseph Mantle drove the vehicle in front of the Gull and Clover grabbed the end of the rope.
‘Thanks, Clover,’ Ned called. ‘Just loop it over the hook. You know, this is going to be so much better than trying to fly off the top of Rough Hill.’
‘Yes, but please be careful, Ned.’
Dorcas had been invited to tea for the first time since Mary Ann’s marriage to Jake. She arrived wearing an expensive-looking walking costume with three-quarter length jacket that had a fur collar and matching muff. She sat at table next to Elijah, her beautiful brown eyes taking in every detail of the Tandy household. Elijah she loved, Elijah she worshipped; it was such a pity that his family were not as genteel as her own though. The way Mary Ann hummed hymn tunes while she was delivering cakes to the table would not be allowed of a servant in her own home, and Jake wandering about in a collarless shirt and braces was plebeian to say the least. Still, when she was married to Elijah she would be able to ease him away from these people – these vulgar publicans, these licensed victuallers.
She had overcome her initial fear that the two pretty girls of the house might be a diversion for Elijah. Clover, she knew, was courting and evidently preoccupied with Tom Doubleday, whom she’d met, and it was Clover she had seen as her biggest threat since she was not actually related to Elijah. It was naturally unthinkable to even consider there being any liaison with Ramona; she was his niece after all and strictly out of bounds. So, while Dorcas tended to look down her nose at Mary Ann and Jake, she was inclined to regard Clover and Ramona with a little more tolerance. Having shown herself up as a jealous woman once and, fearful she might have lost their respect, she was even attempting to be pleasant lately.
Ramona was loath to speak to her across the table, however. When Dorcas addressed her, Ramona avoided her eyes lest the girl could see through them and read the scandalous secret that must surely be etched onto her brain and clearly visible. Not that she regretted what she’d done; she did not. But if Dorcas had any inkling at all…
‘Elijah tells me you’ve been out with that lad today who’s built that flying machine thing, Clover,’ Dorcas said, having taken a small bite out of a slice of Madeira cake that Zillah Bache had baked that morning.
‘Yes, we went to Bobbington so he could practise flying and controlling the craft.’
Elijah was about to ask about Ned’s progress but Dorcas talked over him with a question that was of infinitely more interest to her.
‘Does Tom mind you fraternising with this Ned?’
Clover smiled and glanced at her mother. ‘Not a bit. Why should he? I was friends with Ned long before I knew Tom. And Tom knows I’ve always helped him – almost from the start.’
Dorcas delicately rubbed her beautifully manicured fingers together over her plate to remove the tiny crumbs. ‘I would have thought he might have objected if he knew.’
Clover lifted her cup and sipped tea. ‘Oh, he always knows, Dorcas. I always tell him when I’m helping Ned.’ She replaced her cup in her saucer with a chink. ‘He doesn’t object. In fact, Tom admires what Ned’s doing. There’s no opposition from Tom. If anything, it’s Ned who seems to resent Tom.’
‘You mean Ned’s jealous of Tom?’
‘He was when I first started seeing Tom. Not so much now. I think he quite fancies Ramona now…’ Clover flashed Ramona a generous smile, expecting her to confirm the notion. But she guiltily avoided eye contact, instead glancing warily at Elijah.
‘Oh, I didn’t know you’d been out with Ned, our Ramona,’ Elijah remarked mischievously, his mouth full of cake.
‘I haven’t been out with Ned,’ she answered defensively and looked down, trying to hide her rising colour behind her mop of fair hair.
‘He asked you though,’ Clover prompted.
‘So what? Lots of chaps ask me out. It doesn’t mean I have to go out with them all. I hardly go out with any.’
‘Good job an’ all,’ Mary Ann declared sharply. ‘You’d get yourself a right reputation.’
‘You went out last night,’ Clover proclaimed innocently, and witnessed Ramona’s blushes.
‘What d’you mean?’ Ramona’s inherent guilt over Elijah at once put her on the defensive, believing that Clover must know about her nocturnal visit. She looked with alarm, first at Clover, then at Elijah, then at Dorcas.
‘With Harry Heppenstall,’ Clover prompted.
‘Oh, him…He took me to Lester’s. It was nothing special.’
‘You went out with Harry Heppenstall last night?’ Elijah queried.
Ramona could not be certain whether he was mocking or jealous.
‘To Lester’s?’ There was a gleam in his eye.
He was mocking. Early this morning when the rest of the world was soundly asleep he was making love to her heart and soul. Now he had the nerve to tease her about her going out innocently with a lad, as if what had happened between them meant nothing to him. That did it – Ramona got up from the table leaving an unfinished jam sandwich and scurried out of the room. Nobody saw the tears that were stinging her eyes.
‘What’s the matter with her?’ Dorcas asked.
Tom Doubleday arrived at eight that evening and found Clover at work alone in the taproom. It was too early yet for it to be busy but several folk had already appeared having been to church or chapel.
‘Do you mind if we stay here tonight, Tom?’ she said apologetically. ‘Ramona’s not well and Job Smith isn’t working tonight. They need me to help out.’
‘That’s all right, sweetheart,’ he replied. ‘I can sit and sup with the regulars. Unless you want me to work as well.’
‘’Course. I don’t mind.’
Clover picked up a glass from a shelf underneath the beer pulls. ‘Have a pint now?’
‘Please,’ Tom nodded. ‘So how did it go this morning?’
‘With Ned? He did well.’ She pulled him a pint of bitter and refused to take the money when he tendered it. Instead, she started to relate in enthusiastic detail the events of the morning and her ride out into the country.
‘So you liked riding in a motor car?’
‘Oh, it was grand, Tom. There are some lovely places to see – and so close as well. We were in the middle of nowhere within half an hour. Away from all the grime and the factories. It must be lovely to own a motor car.’
‘I’m sure it must be,’ he replied thoughtfully. ‘What make does this Joseph Mantle have?’
‘I think he said it was a Sunbeam. Leastwise, it was made in Wolverhampton.’
‘A Sunbeam, eh?…So tell me, Clover, was Ned pleased with what he achieved today?’
‘He was thrilled…’ Two more customers entered; Noah Fairfax and Urban Tranter in their Sunday best suits and caps. Urban jangled the loose change in his pocket and sat down at a vacant table. Noah sat opposite him. ‘Yes, gentlemen. What can I get you?’
‘Two pints of mild please, Clover my wench,’ Urban said.
‘And can we have the cribbage board an’ all, an’ a pack of cards?’ Noah added.
Tom located them and passed them to the two men while Clover drew their beers.