A Family Affair
Page 19
‘And who can blame you?’ Selina commented.
‘You nearly missed Tom’s announcement,’ Ramona remarked to Ned. ‘You’re late. But what’s all this leather for?’
‘I’ve bought a motor,’ Ned announced. ‘They let me have it cheap at Star. You need leathers like this when you’m driving a motor.’
‘You’ve bought a motor car?’ Clover queried. ‘Where is it?’
‘Outside. D’you want to see it?’
‘’Course we do. Don’t we, Ramona?…Don’t we, Selina…Ivy?’
So Ned obliged and led the way outside, followed by four eager girls. In the cool evening air of May they gathered round the open car giggling and Selina, without being invited, sat in the front passenger seat. With a gesture of self-mockery, she assumed but exaggerated the air of a lady. This prompted the other girls to laugh and occupy the other seats, such was the novelty of the situation. Some of the other folk streamed out of the taproom into the street and stood around, gawping at the car, amused at the girls who were bubbling and noisy from the effects of a drink or two.
‘Take us a ride, Ned,’ Selina called over the hubbub. ‘I’ve never been a ride in a hossless cart.’
Ramona was perched in the driver’s seat. ‘Well, Ned,’ she drooled. ‘You can take me out in this any time you like.’
‘I’ll give you all a ride,’ he said, enjoying this new-found attention and respect. ‘But since it’s Clover’s twenty-first, I think she ought to go first. If you don’t mind, that is…’
There was a murmur of approval from those watching, except from Ramona, and so the girls complied, each in turn alighting from the vehicle. Clover moved to the front passenger seat and braced herself, rubbing her arms in anticipation of the breeze that would soon chill her, for she wore no coat. Ned cranked the engine, clambered aboard and they began to move off to applause from everybody. Tom Doubleday emerged from the taproom just in time to see his sweetheart being driven off in a strange vehicle.
‘They’ve only gone a ride,’ Selina informed him. ‘They’ll only be five minutes. He’s coming back to give us all a ride. He’s done well for himself since he left the Coneygree to build aeroplanes. Them motors don’t come cheap, I bet. I doubt if we’ll ever be able to afford one, eh, Charlie?’
Tom’s disapproval must have shown in his face; for Tom knew about the loan Ned had accepted and had a very shrewd idea where the money had come from to pay for this unexpected extravagance. Ramona stepped up to him, typically misreading his expression.
‘Don’t look so worried, Tom. He’s taking us all a ride, as Selina says. Clover will be back in a minute.’
Tom forced a smile for her. ‘Oh, I’m not bothered about Clover, Ramona,’ he replied.
It was not a statement that he would have considered ambiguous to anybody who had just heard his announcement. But Ramona was of different stuff, suffering her own trials and tribulations over Elijah. Suddenly she saw Tom as a kindred spirit, likewise tortured, likewise spurned and desired in turn, till she did not know whether she was coming or going. In her twisted perspective, Tom’s apparent anguish made sense. In her distorted view of things, it all started falling into place. She seized on Tom.
‘It doesn’t surprise me her going off with Ned two minutes after you announced you wanted to marry her,’ she said, turning away from the others. ‘Amazing how fickle a motor car can make a girl.’
‘Doesn’t it make you wonder where the money came from, Ramona?’ he remarked sourly. ‘Six months ago he hadn’t got two halfpennies to rub together.’
‘But they’ve always been close,’ Ramona said, persisting with her theme, ignoring his. ‘I reckon if you hadn’t come along she would have married Ned. Specially now.’
Tom looked at Ramona quizzically. ‘You think so? Somehow I doubt it.’
Unwittingly they started walking, up the side of the Jolly Collier into the yard between the pub and the brewery, away from the rest.
Ramona shrugged. ‘God knows what they used to get up to in that stable up at Springfield House when they were supposed to be building that aeroplane. I suppose you never can tell. Not long ago I saw her in Elijah’s arms in the yard. He swore it was innocent enough…but you never can tell.’
They stopped walking and Tom looked at her sceptically. ‘Clover and Elijah? Are you sure?’
She noticed with gratification how his eyes were drawn to the soft curve of her smooth young breasts above her bodice. ‘Praps you shouldn’t read anything into it, Tom. After all, Elijah swore…Mind you, when you think he’s brewed a beer specially for her birthday – gone to all that trouble – then called her special in front of Dorcas – it adds grist to the mill, don’t you think?’
‘Well I’m certain nothing’s ever gone on between Clover and Ned. You’re imagining that, Ramona. And if you’ve imagined the one, you could have imagined the other.’
‘Have you ever had a look round the brewery?’
‘No.’
‘Why don’t you let me show you? I can show you how beer is brewed. All the changes we’ve made.’
He smiled at how nimbly she jumped from one subject to another. ‘Some other time maybe, Ramona. It’d be interesting to see this brewery but I know how beer is brewed.’
‘Fair enough,’ she said resignedly. ‘They’d been to the brewhouse together to lay the fire, you know. It must have been a Sunday night.’
‘Who?’
‘Clover and Elijah. They was ages. I’d just come outside – I forget what for now – and then I saw them, arms all around each other and laughing, as if they’d been lovers for ages.’
Tom sighed, a troubled sigh. His trust in Clover had been complete. He knew her to be totally trustworthy. And yet he could not be with her twenty-four hours a day. What of the time when they were apart? Could it be as Ramona suggested? After all, there was ample opportunity…No. It could not be. Clover was totally, utterly committed; it was plain enough for all to see. Besides, she was not that kind of girl…
‘And just look how she despises Dorcas. Jealousy, that’s all it is.’
‘What about yourself, Ramona?’ he asked, dismissing her fanciful notions. ‘Are you courting yourself these days? I never seem to see you with anybody.’
‘Me? No, I ain’t courting nobody, Tom. I’m saving meself for the right man. He’ll find me worth having as well, when he comes along…’
‘I’m sure. You’re an attractive young woman.’
‘Thank you, Tom,’ she responded, smiling coyly and he watched her bosom rise appealingly as she sighed at his compliment. ‘But that’s not what I mean. I know what a man enjoys most and I can make sure he gets it…’
The sound of a motor car boomed off the walls of the yard, suggesting Ned had returned Clover. They looked at each other, turned round and went to meet them.
‘You’ll want a coat on,’ Clover said to Selina and Ivy who were next to be driven. ‘You’ll be frozen.’
‘Oh, we’ll be all right,’ Selina said and jumped into the car. ‘See you later.’
‘Wait for me, Ned,’ Ramona called. ‘I’m coming as well.’
Clover smiled at Tom and shivered. He looked into her eyes trying to read thoughts and intentions, guilty secrets that were not there.
‘Let’s go inside for a warm,’ she said. ‘God, I’m frozen. If ever you buy a motor car, Tom, get one with a cover…What’s wrong?’ she asked, suddenly conscious of his troubled expression. ‘You look as if you’ve lost a sovereign and found sixpence.’
‘I hope I haven’t,’ he replied ambiguously, allowing her through the door to the taproom first.
Dorcas and Elijah were just on their way outside. ‘We’re just going to see this contraption Ned’s bought,’ he said.
‘Brrr! I’ve just been out in it. I’m frozen solid.’
‘Yes, you need to wrap up,’ Dorcas agreed. ‘Especially in this weather. May can be very deceiving.’
‘Oh, Elijah,’ Clover said, and put her hand on h
is arm familiarly. ‘Thanks for that special celebration brew. It was a lovely surprise. I’m not sure how to thank you…’ She beamed at him, stood on tip-toe and planted a kiss firmly on his lips.
Tom watched and wondered…
Chapter 14
Tom Doubleday arrived home with his mother and father at about half past one in the morning. On the way they discussed the Tandys at some length and in particular Mary Ann. Mr Doubleday Senior insisted she had a face longer than a hop-picking train and his wife said it was hardly surprising, what with all the work she had to do and a grown-up family to look after. Tom hardly contributed to the discussion, save for a couple of words when his opinion was requested. He was deep in thought, and those thoughts were being muddled by the interference of too much alcohol. He didn’t normally over-indulge but, since it had been Clover’s birthday and the evening of their engagement, he had deemed it reasonable to partake of a drink or two extra. So, when they entered the house in Stafford Street, Tom went straight out the back, sought the privy and then retired to bed.
The alcohol ensured that he fell asleep quickly, as he had hoped it would. But he awoke about five, much earlier than usual, and had to get up and visit the privy again. Outside, the birds were twittering their anthems that celebrated the first light of day. His mind was instantly alert, active, rational and preoccupied with what Ramona had told him. When he returned to his bed, he continued to lie, gazing at a crack in the ceiling, his hands behind his head, mulling over last night.
He did not know how much credibility he should afford Ramona’s words about Clover and Elijah. Ramona, he suspected, possessed a vivid imagination and was possibly being no more than a little mischievous. Her telling him in the beginning that Clover and Ned Brisco were courting had inhibited him from pursuing Clover. It had been untrue. Maybe not a deliberate lie, but an unwitting fiction, told out of ignorance and all the more forgivable because, by telling it, she fancied she might secure him for herself. It was a flattering gesture, especially since it was from a girl as desirable as Ramona.
But Clover had been his goal and Clover he’d eventually won. She was a prize worth having, too; or so he’d always believed. From the outset he’d been drawn to her most exquisite looks; that nose that was ever so slightly long and all the more delicious for it, those clear blue eyes that exuded openness and honesty, those soft, succulent lips that he never tired of kissing and which, when he was not kissing them, curved into the most adorable smiles. She possessed a warmth he’d never perceived in any other woman, an easy-going, seemingly dependable nature that made him entirely comfortable with her. She had given herself to him in the first place out of love, out of trust, knowing she would be vilified by every gossip of Kates Hill if she ever became pregnant as a result.
But what if he’d been wrong all along? What if she had given herself too readily? Wouldn’t that say something about her virtue – or lack of it? If she had given herself easily with one man she could do so with another. Some women were like that. He’d been caught out with Maud, the first girl he was engaged to. He’d sworn he would never allow himself to be put in that position again. Other women were easy but they had the knack of making you first believe you’d seduced them, that you were the only man in the world for them. Clover’s warmth in any case was evidently not reserved just for him; he had witnessed it being bestowed on Elijah; the touching, the feeling. Wouldn’t it be just true to form if something was going on behind his back? What a bitter irony if the very day he became engaged to Clover he’d discovered she really was having a fling with Elijah Tandy. Everything he did, with the best possible intentions, seemed to backfire on him.
So…was there something too familiar in the way Clover kissed Elijah Tandy last night, the way she put her hand on his, touching, feeling with that innate warmth of hers? By doing so, had she inadvertently let slip some evidence of intimacy they’d secretly shared and enjoyed sometime? The unwitting give-away? Look how she had stood on tiptoe and kissed him full on the lips, brazenly, as if she’d done it a thousand times before. Only an hour or two before she had behaved identically with him, Tom. No, Clover evidently did not reserve such shows of affection solely for himself.
Dorcas’s presence could even have lent credence to their complicity. Normally, people would try to hide any signs of a closet liaison. Being openly affectionate belied any guilt. So they could afford to show their natural affection with no fear of anybody thinking the worst. Just a show of innocent familiarity as far as anybody else was concerned. There had always been a rapport between them, an informality that allowed them to flirt openly, unashamedly. Maybe Elijah had taken it as a sign of her interest and pursued it. Fancy him, too, going to all the trouble of brewing a special beer to mark her birthday.
Tom wondered if Dorcas was suffering any doubts. Tom did not dislike Dorcas as Clover did. He found her reserved, not snobbish, and he put it down to shyness. Was Clover’s dislike fuelled by jealousy? Was that jealousy simply another pointer? Maybe. Tom knew he could not be with Clover all the time. He could not study her behaviour like a fly on a wall. God alone knew what little familiarities she practised with Elijah when they were alone – when nobody was looking.
Maybe he should ask her point-blank. He had been cheated by Maud and his best friend…there was no reason why he should stand to be cheated by Clover and Elijah as well.
What an idiotic state to be in. If Ramona had not alerted him he would have gone on blindly trusting Clover. Ramona was evidently more of a friend than he realised. Now he had to rethink his position, he had to be alert to these other probabilities. It was difficult to take in. Maybe he was not so special after all in Clover’s eyes. The biggest problem was, it hurt beyond belief to acknowledge the possibility.
Tom kicked the sheets off and sat on the edge of his bed in his nightshirt for a few seconds. He reached up, drew back the curtains and looked out onto the world wistfully. He opened his sash an inch or two further and the familiar smell of Millard’s brewery at the Gypsies’ Tent permeated his room the more. The realities of life lay in what you could smell like that beer brewing, what you could see, what you could hear, what you could touch. He donned his long-johns and his trousers and went downstairs to wash and shave in the whitewashed scullery. He would have it out with Clover, make her see he was not the soft touch she thought he was. He would tell her exactly what he thought of such liberal behaviour and let fate take its course.
Wort is the name given to the liquor produced by mashing crushed malt, known as grist, with hot water and allowing the starch therein to be converted by enzymes into sugars. That same afternoon, wort in the new mash tun was ready to be drawn off into a vessel called the underback. Jake Tandy was working in the brewery, passing on to Ramona knowledge he had picked up from Mary Ann.
Jake turned the valve that allowed the hot wort to drain through the perforated base plate of the mash tun and it gurgled and sucked.
‘Right, now you can sparge the mash, Ramona,’ he called out.
Ramona, who was wearing a light cotton frock that kept her relatively cool in the humid heat of this the liquor room, duly picked up the hose from the floor and sprayed more hot water over the mash of grains to remove any remaining sugar and flush it into the underback. ‘Is that all right, Father?’ she enquired, diligently spraying every square foot.
‘Just the ticket, princess.’ He chuckled with admiration of her obvious enthusiasm. ‘I can see we’ll mek a brewer of you yet. I’ve picked up a lot from Mary Ann. And by God, she knows what she’s a-doing when it comes to brewing beer.’
‘Well, she’s been at it a long time.’ She changed the hose pipe to her left hand. ‘Tell me when it’s enough, Father. This hosepipe’s getting too hot to hold.’
‘That should be enough now, I reckon. We’ll let it drain through and then I’ll dig out the spent mash. See that barrow, Ramona?…Shove it over here, will you?’
‘What happens to the spent mash?’ she asked, turning off the hose.
She pushed the cart he’d called a barrow towards him. ‘So d’you reckon we’ve got everything we need in the brewery now?’
‘Not by a long chalk. We need a new bottling plant and a new store. But now we’ve got a buyer for the house, maybe we can set about getting it.’ He looked at her, proud that he could announce this news at last.
‘You’ve sold the house?’ she said, trying to hide her concern. ‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’
‘It ain’t actually sold yet, Ramona. Not till I’ve had the money. But I’ve agreed a sale. You have to admit, the money’ll come in useful.’
Alarm bells were already ringing in Ramona’s head. ‘How soon?’ Her trysts with Elijah would come to an end and they would be left with nowhere to lie and make love.
‘It’ll be a wik or two afore the deeds am handed over, I daresay,’ Jake answered gently. ‘Now…’ He clambered into the mash tun with a shovel. ‘While I shovel this lot out and clean the mash tun, go down to the boiler room and see if your Uncle Elijah’s ready to fill the copper from the underback. He can show you what has to be done there.’
Partly out of duty, but partly out of an urgent desire to inform Elijah that they were soon to be deprived of their love-nest, she skipped down the wooden stairs. Elijah was shovelling coal under the copper to stoke up the fire.
‘Have you come to watch or to help?’ he asked matily.
‘To help,’ she replied. ‘I’m supposed to be learning how to brew.’
It was hot there, too. The wort was flowing from the underback to the copper and she could feel its heat and that of the fire that roared under it. She was glad she wore only a light dress.
Elijah called up to Jake that the wort was safely in the copper and he could close off the underback so that he could proceed with cleaning the mash tun ready for the next wort. Then he turned to Ramona. ‘Help me with that pocket, eh?’