by Dilly Court
Beth stirred again and opened her blue eyes, so like her father's. She began to whimper and Eloise scooped her up in her arms. 'Oh, my little treasure, what am I going to do? How will we manage on our own?' She sat down on the edge of her bed and undid the buttons of her blouse, putting the baby to her breast. 'We will go and see your grandmama; she will know what to do.'
It had stopped raining, and Myrtle Street was cloaked in darkness when Eloise finally left the house with both children tucked up together in the perambulator. It was bitterly cold and the air smelt of soot with a hint of snow to come. Eloise wrapped her muffler a little tighter around her neck and she stepped out briskly, heading towards City Road. The streets were quiet at this time on a freezing January evening, and she was able to pass unnoticed in the shadows between the pools of flickering yellow gaslight. Her breath curled like smoke around her face and head, but the two children slept peacefully in the warm cocoon of blankets in the perambulator. Her heart ached as she looked down at their innocent faces. How she would manage she did not know. Ronnie had never saved a penny in his life, nor had he thought to take out life insurance. She would have to find work, and quickly too. Mother would help. Mother would know exactly what to do. Eloise quickened her pace, breathing more easily as she saw the spire of her father's church looming above the pall of smoke that always hung over this part of the city.
There was light shining from the vicarage windows and Eloise sighed with relief. She had not stopped to wonder if her parents might be out at a church meeting or a social; she had just followed her instinct to fly home where she knew she would be safe. She knocked on the door, muffling the sound of the iron door knocker with her hand lest it should wake the babies. She listened for the sound of approaching footsteps on the encaustic tiled floor and her throat tightened with unshed tears when finally the door opened and she saw her mother's slender figure silhouetted against the gaslight in the hall.
'Eloise! My darling girl. What brings you out on a night like this? And with the babies too.' Grace Monkham held the door open wide. 'Bring them in out of the cold.'
Eloise pushed the perambulator into the porch and collapsed in tears in her mother's arms.
Grace stroked her hair, holding her daughter to her bosom. 'Oh, no, Ellie. It isn't - it can't be . . .'
'Ronnie's dead, Mama. His sh-ship went d-down with all hands in the Ch-China Sea.'
'What's wrong, Grace?' Jacob Monkham came out of his study, holding a copy of The Times in his hand. 'What's happened?'
Grace held up her hand. 'It's Ronnie. There's been a terrible disaster at sea. Have we got any medicinal brandy, Jacob?'
'I'll see if there is any in the chiffonier. Take her into the parlour and sit her by the fire. She looks perished.' Jacob disappeared into the dining room on the far side of the hall.
'There, there, darling,' Grace murmured, leading Eloise into the welcoming warmth of the parlour. 'Sit by the fire and Papa will bring you something to make you feel better.'
Eloise collapsed into the comfort of a red velvet wingback chair by the fire, 'My babies, Mama. It's too cold for them in the porch.'
'Don't worry, my dear. Janet will look after them. It's you I'm more concerned with at the moment.' Grace tugged at an embroidered bell pull. 'Do you feel up to talking, Ellie?'
Eloise fished in her pocket for a handkerchief, and realising that she had forgotten to bring one, she looked to her mother. Without the need to be asked, Grace took a clean square of white lawn from her pocket and pressed it into Eloise's hand with a rueful smile. 'In all your life, Eloise, I have never known you to have a hanky when you needed one. You were always like that even as a child.'
Eloise blew her nose and was composing herself to tell her mother everything when Janet, the cook-general, put her head round the door. She glanced at Eloise and her sandy eyebrows shot up to her hairline. She cast a questioning glance at Grace. 'What's up?'
Grace hurried over to her, lowering her voice. 'There's been a tragic loss at sea, Janet. Will you take the babies upstairs and put them to bed in Ellie's old room?'
Eloise attempted to raise herself from the chair but her legs would not support her. She gulped and sniffed. 'Mama, they cannot sleep in a proper bed. They'll roll out and hurt themselves, besides which I really ought to take them home.'
'Nonsense, I won't hear of it. This is still your home, and you must stay for tonight at least. You are in no fit state to be alone, darling.' Grace motioned to Janet to go about her business. 'You know what to do, don't you, Janet?'
'I should think I ought to, ma'am. Having looked after you since you was a girl and Miss Eloise since the day she was born, I think I can still remember how to make up a bed for the little ones in drawers from the chest.' Janet tossed her head and her white mobcap wobbled dangerously on top of her frizzy, pepper and salt curls. 'Leave it to me, Miss Eloise, and don't you fret.'
She bustled out of the room, passing Jacob in the doorway. He carried a brandy bottle in one hand and three small glasses in the other. He put them down on an occasional table and poured out three tots, handing one to Eloise and one to his wife. He downed the third in one gulp. His bushy white eyebrows knotted together over the top of his aquiline nose. 'So there's no hope then, Eloise?'
She sipped the brandy and the fiery spirit caught her at the back of her throat, making her cough. 'N-none at all, Papa. The Hellebore went down in a t-typhoon with the loss of all h-hands.' She mopped her eyes with the hanky. 'I'm sorry, I c-can't stop crying.'
'I am sorry, my dear.' Jacob patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. 'You know that I didn't approve of your marriage to Ronald, but I am grieved by your loss. However, in time I am sure that . . .'
Grace laid her hand on his arm. 'Not now, Jacob. Eloise does not need a sermon at this moment in time.'
'I only meant to offer words of comfort, Grace.'
'Perhaps they will be more welcome tomorrow, my dear, after the poor girl has had a good night's sleep. Why don't you go back to reading your newspaper and leave her to me.' Grace reached up to kiss him on his whiskery cheek.
'Very well, but tomorrow I will offer up prayers in church for the departed.'
Grace pushed him gently towards the doorway. 'Of course you will, dear. But right now I think that Eloise's physical needs are more important. I doubt if she's had supper, or if she's had anything to eat at all today.'
His stern countenance melted just a fraction. Trust you to be practical, Grace. I'll be in my study if you need me.' He left the room, casting an anxious glance at Eloise and shaking his head. 'Very sad, very sad indeed.'
'Now, darling,' Grace said gently. 'Everything will be taken care of. Take off your boots and I'll fetch a warm mustard bath for your feet, and Janet will make you some supper when she's seen to the children.'
'Thank you, Mama, but I couldn't eat a thing.'
'You must keep your strength up, if only for the children's sake.' Grace paused with her hand on the doorknob. 'I can only imagine how you must be feeling at the moment, Ellie, darling. But the pain will grow less in time, believe me.'
Eloise managed a weak smile. 'I expect you're right, Mama. But part of me just refuses to believe that Ronnie is gone forever.'
Grace's dark eyes filled with tears and her lips trembled. She nodded her head and slipped quickly out of the room.
For the rest of the evening, Eloise drifted between disbelief and despair. She seemed to have regressed into childhood again as Grace and Janet fussed over her with tempting little dishes of food, a hot mustard bath for her icy feet, and a warm crocheted blanket to wrap around her shoulders. The interior of the old vicarage was slightly shabby and the furniture might not be in the latest fashion, but it was a warm and welcoming home filled with many memories, most of them happy. When it was time for bed Eloise was touched to find that Janet had warmed the sheets with two stone hot water bottles, and one of her mother's frilled lawn nightdresses had been laid out on the satin coverlet. A coal fire burned brightly in t
he grate, making companionable crackling sounds, and the air in the room was fragrant with the scent of dried lavender.
Joss and Beth were sleeping peacefully in two large drawers taken from the oak tallboy, and Eloise leaned over to kiss their plump cheeks before climbing into her old bed. She turned off the gaslight and snuggled down beneath the covers, watching the shadows on the walls created by the flickering firelight. She could smell her mother's scent in the fabric of the nightgown, and the starched white sheets were as smooth as glass. It was all so familiar and comforting, but Eloise knew there was no going back. She was not the young girl who had dreamt of becoming a teacher, of love and romance with a fairytale ending when she married her prince. She was the widowed mother of two very young children; she had a home of her own and she must now make a life for herself. She knew that she could rely on her parents for help, although if the truth were told she had always been a little scared of Papa, whose mind seemed to be on a loftier plane than that of ordinary secular folk. Eloise closed her eyes, but she was certain that she would not sleep a wink.
When the sound of a baby crying awakened her, Eloise sat bolt upright in bed. At first she could not remember where she was, and when she recognised the room she could not think why she was here. Then it all came flooding back to her and it was not just the bitter chill of the January night that made her shiver. Beth's cries were becoming more insistent and Eloise swung her legs over the edge of the bed, moving carefully so as not to disturb Joss, and she lifted Beth up in her arms. Wrapping her shawl around her shoulders, she returned to the warmth of her bed, where she sat propped up on pillows while Beth suckled hungrily. Eloise closed her eyes, comforted by the physical closeness of her baby and the feeling of the small mouth tugging insistently at her nipple. Whatever happened, she would protect her children. Things might look bleak now, in the small hours of the morning, but she would find a way to support both them and herself. If she could get some kind of teaching post in the church school, perhaps Mama and Janet would help look after the children in the daytime. They could return home to Myrtle Street at night, and she would not be completely dependent on her parents. She would talk it over with them in the morning.
Next morning at breakfast, Eloise broached the subject but the reaction she received was far different to the one she had anticipated. Mama looked stricken and Papa pushed his plate of buttered eggs and bacon to one side, barely touched. He cleared his throat and rose from the table, pacing the floor with his hands clasped behind his back. 'This comes at a most unfortunate time, Eloise.'
'I don't understand, Papa.'
Grace reached out to touch Eloise's hand. 'Your father has something to tell you, Ellie. We weren't going to mention it yet. I mean, with things as they are . . .' Her voice trailed off and she cast a beseeching look at her husband. 'Jacob, I think you ought to tell her exactly what you plan to do.'
Eloise looked from one to the other and cold fingers of fear clutched at her heart. 'What have you to tell me? Please, just say it, Papa.'
Jacob came to a halt by his chair and he sat down suddenly, as if his legs had given way beneath him. 'There's no easy way to say this, particularly at a time when you are not quite yourself. But you must know that I have not been particularly happy working here in London. I didn't want to leave my parish in Dorset but I did my duty and uprooted us all to come here to this filthy, vice-ridden place.'
Grace frowned at him. 'Just tell her, Jacob.'
'Some time ago, Eloise, I applied to the Missionary Society for a posting to Africa.
Nothing came of it for a while, and then I heard recently that I had been accepted. To put it briefly, in two weeks' time your mother and I are leaving on a ship bound for Mombasa. We will be gone for at least two years before we are eligible for home leave, and it could be even longer.' Jacob picked up his teacup and took a mouthful of tea, which he swallowed convulsively.
'I have been called, Eloise. I have to go.'
Stunned and disbelieving, Eloise looked to her mother for help. 'No, surely not. I can't believe that you would both go so far away, especially now.'
'My dear, I don't want to leave you, but I have no choice.' Grace bowed her head and her fingers plucked at the starched napkin lying on her lap. 'I have to go, my love.'
Eloise leapt to her feet. 'But I need you here, Mama. You can't desert me.'
A broken sob escaped from Grace's lips. 'Oh, Ellie. If only things were different.'
Jacob glared at Eloise, his brows lowered. 'That's enough, Eloise. Your mother must do her duty and accompany me on my mission. I cannot abandon my calling just because you have lost your husband. I warned you against marrying him, but you wouldn't listen to me. Now you must live with the consequences of your foolish liaison.'
'Papa!' Shocked by his violent tone, Eloise could only stare at him in dismay. 'How can you speak to me like that?'
'Jacob, please.' Grace held her hand out to him. 'You're making things worse.'
'Eloise is a grown woman now. She has children of her own and she will have to follow the path in life which she has chosen. You have another family, Eloise. Your children have grandparents in Yorkshire. They must take some responsibility for their son's wife and children.'
Eloise faced her father across the breakfast table. 'I would sooner die than go to live with them, Papa. Ronnie's mother hates me, I know she does.'
'Really, Eloise. Don't be so dramatic,' Jacob retorted angrily. 'When we met at the wedding I thought she was a sensible, down to earth woman, and she went out of her way to be pleasant.'
'Maybe to you, but I know that she would rather that Ronnie had married a plain Yorkshire girl, not a soft southerner.'
Jacob rose to his feet, scowling. 'This is hysterical nonsense. You are overwrought.'
Grace pushed her chair back from the table and she went to stand beside Eloise. 'Stop it, both of you. This is all wrong. We should be helping our daughter, Jacob. We should be comforting her in her loss, not abandoning her to the care of strangers.' She wrapped her arms around Eloise and hugged her. 'My poor girl, it will break my heart to leave you.'
'Stay with me, Mama. Don't follow him to the wilds of the Dark Continent. Stay with me and the children. I can find work. We'll manage somehow.'
Jacob thumped his hand down on the table, causing the crockery and cutlery to bounce and jiggle. 'That's enough, Eloise. Your mother knows her duty and that is to accompany me on my mission. You are an ungrateful girl and a wicked daughter to try to turn her against me.'
Eloise glared at him over her mother's bent head. They were both sobbing now, but she was also furious. 'How can you stand there and pretend you are a man of God when you treat your wife and daughter like this? You call me wicked, Papa, but I think it is you who are bad and unfeeling, and unchristian.'
'That's enough.' Jacob strode round the table and he caught his wife by the shoulders, dragging her away from Eloise. 'This behaviour will stop now. Grace, I expect better from you. This sort of outburst is unseemly in a woman of your age and station in life. You are behaving like the lowest of the low slum women who rant and rave quite out of control. This sordid, godforsaken part of London has had a terrible effect on both of you, and you will be better off away from here.'
Grace tried to break free from him, but he held her by the wrist. 'Jacob, let me go. You're hurting me. In all our years of married life I have never gone against your wishes, I have followed you wherever your calling led us, but I think you are quite wrong in this. You are putting the needs of others above those of our daughter.'
'I am doing God's will, Grace. You will come with me, and Eloise will go to Yorkshire to live with her in-laws. I am going to my study to write them a letter explaining the situation, and I hope by the time I am done you will have composed yourself and remembered your duty to me.' He slammed out of the room.
Eloise and Grace stood in shocked silence staring at the closed door. Eloise was the first to recover and she placed her arm around her mother's sho
ulders. 'I am so sorry, Mama. I didn't mean to come between you and Papa. I just can't bear the thought of you being so far away, especially when I need you so much.'
'My darling girl, I would give anything to change the situation, but your father is a stubborn man. Once he has made his mind up to something, I don't think even God himself could dissuade him from his purpose.' Grace's brown eyes were magnified by unshed tears, but her lips quivered in a wry smile.
'Don't go with him, Mama. Stay here with me. I'll work my fingers to the bone to keep us all.'
'I wish it were that simple, but your father needs me and, whether I like it or not, my place is at his side. I just hope that if he finds missionary work not to his liking he will agree to return home. You can be certain that I will do everything in my power to persuade him to come back to England. I wouldn't mind living in the poorest parish in the land if I could be near you and my grandchildren.'
Eloise laid her head on her mother's shoulder, too distraught even to cry. 'Oh, Mama, what shall I do without you?'
Grace hugged her fiercely. 'You will go on for your children, Ellie. As I will go on for you, and one day we will be reunited, I promise you that.'
'Oh, Mama, I wish I was as brave and strong as you. But whatever happens, I'll keep my children with me and I won't go and live with the hateful Cribbs in Yorkshire. I would rather die.'
Chapter Two
Perhaps it was a pang of conscience that had led him to be so unusually generous, but her father had elected to purchase a first class ticket for Eloise and the children. The 'Ladies Only' compartment was reasonably comfortable but Joss was fretful and soon grew tired of standing on the seat to look out of the window. He wanted to toddle about, but not all their fellow passengers appreciated a small child clutching at their knees or falling against them when the train picked up speed or rattled over the points. The clicketyclack of the iron wheels on the rails had lulled Beth to sleep, and as she cradled her in her arms Eloise was thankful for this slight respite as the other ladies in the compartment did not seem to enjoy travelling with small children. Despite her papa's undoubtedly well-intentioned purchase of a first class ticket, Eloise was now wishing that they had travelled second or even third class, where perhaps the other passengers might have been more tolerant. She knew that Beth would be hungry when she woke up, but she was anxious about breastfeeding her baby in the present company. One lady in particular kept sighing and tut-tutting when Joss staggered about in the swaying carriage. Eloise tried to make him sit beside her on the seat, but he soon tired of this and his natural curiosity made him want to explore this strange new environment. The toffee-nosed lady twitched her skirts away from his outstretched hands as he toddled towards her. She glared at Eloise. 'Can't you keep that child under control, young woman?'
