A Family Affair

by Nancy Carson

  November passed in a miasma of putrid fogs. Having got lost in a particularly dense one crossing the English Channel in his royal yacht, Germany’s Kaiser, the most powerful military monarch on earth, eventually found Portsmouth, paid a state visit to London and made much of his blood relationship with King Edward VII. A French inventor called Paul Cornu introduced a new type of aircraft that managed to lift him one and a half metres vertically off the ground, by means of two rotors situated above his head. Ned Brisco was unimpressed.

  Christmas came and went and, in January 1908, the redoubtable Henri Farman flew a circular course for nearly one and a half minutes, covering more than a kilometre and won a prize of £5000 in the process that was much coveted by aviators. Ned’s engine showed little hope of being ready before March. In America, the state of Georgia introduced a law prohibiting alcohol which, when he heard of it, induced Jake Tandy to remark, ’Silly buggers!’ Jake was further incensed when the Licensing Bill was introduced in February, aimed at cutting the number of drinking licences by a third. Malcolm, the cat, had kittens which everybody regarded as a miracle, and Clover found homes for them before Mary Ann could drown them. In the meantime, Mrs Emmeline Pankhurst languished in Holloway jail after refusing to find sureties for her good behaviour.

  Come March and Tom Doubleday was interested to learn that in Paris a process for producing colour photographs had been introduced at the Academie des Sciences by a Gabriel Lippmann. The same city offended Ned Brisco further when it was announced that Henri Farman had made the first aeroplane flight with a passenger, whereas his own twelve-cylinder engine failed to perform, but was still too heavy anyway. Rivalry between the navies of Britain and Germany were boosted when Germany launched its own version of the Royal Navy’s Dreadnought battleship; the balance of power at sea, however, remained with Britain for the foreseeable future.

  In April there was cause for some local celebration when Wolverhampton Wanderers beat Newcastle United 3-1 in the F.A. Cup final at Crystal Palace. This made work bearable at Star for Ned, but only until the euphoria had worn off. He began to appreciate the complexities of designing and developing a high precision, high output, multi-cylinder internal combustion engine of light weight. A radical rethink of his own was called for.

  Ned’s mind was diverted from the problems of his aeroplane engine one day in May when Edward Lisle offered to sell him one of their Stuart twin-cylinder, three-speed motor cars at a knock-down price, due to the model being discontinued. Ned was used to driving motor cars by this time, having spent some time driving those belonging to the Messrs Lisle. He was sorely tempted. The only way he could afford it, however, was to dip into the money he had been loaned anonymously, which he had been loath to repay yet, not knowing if he would need it for further private funding. But all costs were being met by the Star Engineering Company and it looked less and less likely that he would need it. Since there was no time limit set on when it had to be repaid, he felt justified in using it to finance this lovely new Star Stuart. He would pay it back in due course. It would mean saving up but he could do that now since the Gull was no longer a drain on his resources. Besides, how many other young men in his position were running around in a motor car? Clover would be impressed; Ramona would be impressed.

  It was on Tuesday 19th May, Clover’s twenty-first birthday, that he took delivery of it.

  Tom met Clover from Cook’s that day to accompany her back home for the party that had been arranged for her birthday. The weather was fine and warm with just a light breeze that kept the air clear of smuts.

  ‘I take it you haven’t changed your mind overnight about being engaged to me,’ he said as they milled through High Street’s crowds, all hurriedly wending their way home.

  ‘Did you think I would?’ she asked with a typically sunny smile.

  ‘No, sweetheart. But I’ll be more content when the ring is on your finger.’

  The fact that she was due to become engaged to be married meant more to Clover this day than reaching her twenty-first birthday. Being promised to Tom was infinitely more important than merely attaining the freedom to marry him, without having to resort to permission from her mother or from Jake. It was a circumstance she had been looking forward to for months; another step closer to the day this time next year when she would walk down the aisle of St John’s church in her white bridal gown with Tom waiting for her in the front pew. She had tried, over the months, to visualise it; a bright, sunny day, the church full of fresh spring flowers, her family and his all wearing fine new clothes, their heads turning to watch her glide regally up the aisle on Jake Tandy’s arm, for it must be Jake who would give her away. She tried to picture the house they would occupy, their home. Of course, it was impossible, but she harboured some hopes and impressions of what it might be like. She daydreamed about their going to bed at night, their getting up in a morning, her getting Tom’s breakfast, cooking his meal in the evening when he’d come in from work. She imagined romantic evenings together in front of a cosy fire. Perhaps later on there would be a baby in a crib.

  As they walked, arms linked, towards Kates Hill, they spoke about who would be attending the party later, who might drop by unexpectedly, what folk would be wearing, and speculated on what gifts she might receive. They spoke about his family, who were also expected, and hers. The subject of Ramona cropped up.

  ‘Is she courting now?’ Tom asked. ‘I haven’t been aware of anybody while I’ve been there.’

  ‘I’m not aware there’s anybody special,’ Clover replied. ‘I’ve noticed a change in her, though. Sometimes she seems offish – with me at any rate. I don’t know if I’ve done anything to offend her. Other times she seems distant. You know? You speak to her and it’s as if she hasn’t heard you – as if she’s not been paying attention.’

  ‘I don’t know, Clover. She always seems very attentive—’

  ‘Very attentive to you,’ Clover interrupted with a sideways glance at him. ‘I’ve noticed that.’

  ‘Sometimes, I grant you. Not only to me, though. She’s always responsive to her father…and to her Uncle Elijah, for that matter. Strange that. Those nearest and dearest are often the most likely to be ignored.’

  ‘Familiarity breeding contempt, you mean?’

  ‘Perhaps. But any new male face in the taproom will always elicit a flicker of interest from her. So don’t write her off yet.’

  ‘Tom, I wouldn’t dream. She’s a bit of a conundrum, is Ramona.’

  ‘An enigma. She’s not only cool to you, Clover. I’ve noticed she’s sometimes very cool towards Dorcas.’

  ‘Well, she doesn’t like Dorcas. Neither do I for that matter. Condescending bitch!’

  Tom laughed aloud. ‘That’s unlike you. You’re normally so tolerant.’

  ‘Oh, I’m tolerant of her. For Elijah’s sake. I like Elijah. I like him a lot. I don’t have to like Dorcas though. He could do much better for himself.’

  ‘Maybe he feels he’s done as well as he’s ever likely to do.’

  ‘Has he said as much?’

  ‘He doesn’t have to say anything, Clover. See it from his point of view. She’s a lovely-looking girl who obviously thinks the world of him, brought up to be a lady. Her father’s filthy rich and a pillar of society to boot, and she’s likely to inherit everything he owns. If he marries the girl all that will become his. What more does he want? All right, I think she is a bit condescending when she’s with the Tandys, but she’s all right with me.’

  A dog ran barking into the road near them and a horse that was in harness shied as it approached. The carter, nodding off as he leaned against his load, took exception to being disturbed and jumped off the cart to take an indignant kick at the mongrel. Clover and Tom watched the incident with detached amusement for a second or two before continuing their walk up the road known as Waddam’s Pool. On their left stood The Firs, a large house in its own elevated grounds, on the opposite side stood Hill House, vying for grandeur.

  ‘So j
ust because her father’s made a pot of money she thinks she can look down on everybody else,’ Clover remarked acidly as they continued their journey. ‘If my father had lived maybe he’d have grown wealthy from his brewing. But I’d never have considered myself above everybody else…’

  He’d never heard her talk like this before and he wondered why she felt it so strongly.

  ‘…And just think, Tom, what a catch I would have been for you…As it is, I know I’m not much of a catch.’

  He stopped abruptly, turned to face her and looked intently into her blue eyes that already had a defensive look about them, expecting a scolding. Well, she deserved one for that. ‘Clover, I don’t ever want to hear you say anything like that again. I want to marry you because I love you, because you’re you. I want to marry you for yourself. I’m not interested in whether or not your family has any money. It’s of no consequence. Surely you realise that by now. So don’t put yourself down.’

  She looked down at the ground. ‘Oh, I’m sorry Tom. I just want to be perfect for you.’

  ‘You are perfect for me. If you were not, I wouldn’t be intending to marry you.’

  The party, naturally, was to take place in the taproom of the Jolly Collier and began as soon as Clover had changed and freshened up. A selection of Mary Ann’s relatives had turned up – the Scrivens – made up of two brothers accompanied by their wives and grown-up children and an unmarried sister, Hannah. Old Man and Old Lady Tandy loomed as large as life, as near to the fireplace as they could get, and Elijah finished work in the brewery early so as to fetch Dorcas. The Doubledays of course had been invited and they were due to arrive later. Some of Clover’s old schoolfriends appeared as did girls she worked with at Cook’s. She’d posted an invitation to Selina, her fellow coremaker from the foundry and her beau, Charlie and received an acceptance next day. Zillah Bache and Job Smith had been drafted in to serve free beer and cold food.

  Since the Jolly Collier was obliged to be open for business, casual patrons and regulars also found it impossible not to be part of the celebration and indeed were encouraged to join in. Among them sat Noah Fairfax and Urban Tranter. Awash with free beer, they had exhausted the topic of Asquith’s taking over the post of Prime Minister from Henry Campbell-Bannerman and were by this time well and truly involved in arguing the pros and cons of the government’s intention to introduce an old-age pension of five shillings a week.

  ‘Just think,’ Urban said, ‘me and my ode dutch’ll be better off than we am now.’

  ‘You’d be better off six foot under,’ Noah remarked nonchalantly, and supped his pint as he waited for the inevitable question.

  ‘How d’yer wairk that out?’

  ‘’Cause them as have never worked will never get a penny. Nor paupers, nor prisoners.’

  ‘So how does that affect me?’ Urban queried, with a frown.

  ‘Oh, I forgot. Nor the insane, neither.’

  The assembled regulars who were on the fringe of this discussion all laughed while Urban assumed a disgruntled look.

  ‘Yo’m the one who’s insane, Noah,’ he scoffed.

  Noah shook his head. ‘Not me, me ode tater. If you think as Lloyd George is gunna cough up five bob a wik apiece for yo’ and that missus o’ yowern you must want yer yed lookin’. Yo’ must be insane.’

  ‘That’s what they’n said. Five bob a wik to everybody over seventy. Mind you, I’ve got a year or two yet.’

  ‘For married couples it’ll on’y be seven an’ a tanner, Urban.’

  Urban sucked on his pipe thoughtfully then hawked into the nearest spittoon. ‘Seven an’ a bloody tanner? Why should we get half a crown less than a widder and her lodger what am sleepin’ together under the same roof? Like that Sarah Mildew an’ Georgie Pitchford. Where’s the fairness in that?’

  ‘That’s gunna be the rule, Urban. Like it or not.’

  ‘I’ve a good mind I’d write to Hooper,’ Urban protested vehemently.

  ‘Arthur Hooper? The MP?’

  ‘Yes. Him.’

  Noah scoffed. ‘Yo’ve gorra bloody nerve…’

  Urban looked suitably offended. ‘What d’yer mean, I’ve gorra nerve?’

  ‘Since when have yo’ ever voted Liberal? That’s what I mean. Yo’ know very well yo’ voted for the Tory at the last election.’

  ‘What’s that got to do with it?’

  Suddenly, Tom Doubleday called everybody to attention and, eventually, the room became quiet, save for the occasional chink of glass. He called Clover to his side and took her hand. ‘Friends, families…We all know why we’re here tonight…’ There was a hum of affirmation from everybody. ‘We’re here to celebrate Clover Beckitt’s coming of age.’ A cheer went up and Tom raised his hand again in a plea to be heard. ‘Now I know for a fact that she’s had some lovely gifts from you all, some very touching birthday messages and I know that a lot of you have already given her your best wishes in person here this evening. But there’s one gift still to come and I want to present it to her now…I’ve been aware for more than a year now of how special Clover is. It’s been less than a year since we started courting but in that short time I realised one thing…that I set my heart on marrying her…’ A roar went up that turned into a hum of animated comment between one person and another. Tom once again raised his hand. ‘So…So I asked her to marry me…’ Another cheer. Another raised hand. ‘And, glory be, she said “yes”!’ This time, the taproom erupted with cries of ‘well done’, ‘congratulations’ and some slightly bawdy comments that did not amuse Mary Ann. Tom felt in his jacket pocket. ‘So, I want to give you this special little gift, Clover,’ he said, looking into her eyes with a wealth of affection. ‘Give me your hand…’ He slipped a ring onto her third finger.

  She looked at it and gasped, for she had not seen it before, and smiled happily. ‘Thank you, Tom.’ She stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the lips. When she looked into his eyes again, he saw a tear trembling on her eyelashes and he was moved to hug her.

  ‘Clover, I love you,’ he said simply.

  ‘And I you,’ she replied.

  Already the room was in uproar and somebody started singing ‘For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow’.

  Elijah then stood up and clapped his hands to attract everybody’s attention. ‘Now I’ve got something to say…’ The place went quiet again. ‘For this very special celebration,’ he went on, ‘I’ve brewed a very special beer – and I’ve called it “Clover’s Special”. I’ve tried it meself o’ course and though I say it meself, it’s a drop o’ good – like our Clover, here. So I want you all to enjoy it and drink her health and future happiness.’

  At first, nobody noticed the familiar figure standing at the door in unfamiliar leather waterproofs. Ned Brisco removed his goggles, nodded to one or two of the more familiar patrons and smiled self-consciously while he removed his leather gauntlets. Then everybody seemed to see him and the room went uncannily silent.

  Noah Fairfax picked up a handful of dominoes to resume the game that had been adjourned during their debate and Tom Doubleday’s announcement. He scrutinised them before replacing them face down on the table at which he and Urban sat. He caught Ned’s eye, nodded to him and tapped Urban on the shin with his foot. ‘Bloody ’ell, it’s that Ned Brisco. Florrie’s son.’

  ‘Evening, Mr Fairfax,’ Ned greeted pleasantly, stepping forward with hesitation.

  Noah duly responded but remained straight-faced. ‘That’s him what flies,’ he explained to Urban. ‘Yo’ remember.’

  Urban gave a look of recognition. ‘Christ, yo’d think he was the archangel Gabriel the way everybody’s gone quiet. Looks like he’s fled here anyroad, struttin’ in here like a leather turkey cock.’

  Ned pushed forward through the crowd of people, towards Clover who was laughing now with Selina and Charlie and her old schoolfriend, Ivy Turner. Selina, who knew Ned, looked him up and down.

  ‘What the devil yer got on?’ she asked irreverently. ‘You look like our old coal
bucket. That’s leather an’ all.’

  Ned looked deflated and gave an embarrassed smile.

  ‘Is it raining, Ned?’ Clover asked.

  ‘No, it’s a grand evening, Clover. Happy Birthday…I see you and him got engaged then. Here…I’ve bought you a little present. I couldn’t think what to get you so I brought you this. It’s a fountain pen. I hope you like it.’

  ‘Thanks, Ned. I haven’t got a decent pen. I’ll open it later, shall I? What do you want to drink? It’s all free.’

  ‘I’ll have a pint of bitter.’

  Clover herself poured him a pint and Ramona joined the group. She was wearing a new low-cut dress, revealing a tantalising amount of cleavage, predominantly for Elijah’s benefit although she cast an eye at anybody to check that they were looking.

  ‘Congratulations, Clover,’ she said, smiling generously. ‘Tom fair surprised us all with that announcement. Let’s see your new ring…Oh, it’s beautiful. You must be thrilled. Did you know anything about it?’

  ‘Oh, yes, Ramona,’ she said. ‘But it’s been the hardest thing in the world to keep it a secret. I wanted to shout it from the rooftops as soon as I knew.’