A Mother's Courage

by Dilly Court

  'I'm sorry, ma'am,' Eloise said, beckoning to Joss. 'Come here, darling. Come and sit by Mama.'

  One of the other ladies murmured something under her breath to her well-dressed companion, and Eloise shot her a darkling look as she reached out to catch hold of Joss's arm. 'He's just a baby,' she said defiantly. 'If you have children of your own you must know what it's like when they are this young.'

  The toffee-nosed lady eyed her disdainfully. 'My children had a nanny to look after them.'

  A murmur of assent from the other two women acknowledged this barb.

  Eloise opened her mouth to retort, but at that moment Beth woke up and began to whimper. Eloise rocked her gently hoping that she would go back to sleep, but Beth was hungry and unwilling to be pacified. Her lips trembled and Eloise could see that she was gathering momentum to scream. The train began to slow down and Eloise prayed that at least some of the ladies would get off at the next station. To her intense relief, they all began to gather their belongings, and when the train ground to a halt they stepped onto the platform in a flurry of starched petticoats, fur and feathers. For a moment Eloise thought she might have the compartment to herself for the remainder of the journey, but a plump, pleasant-faced country woman climbed in at the last moment. She had obviously had to hurry in order to catch the train and she subsided onto the seat, red in the face and gasping for breath. 'That was a close one,' she said, fanning her hot cheeks with her hand. 'I had to run for it and that were an effort for a woman of my size I can tell you.' She settled herself more comfortably in the corner seat. 'You'd think they would put on more carriages when the train was full, wouldn't you? To tell the truth, my dear, I've only got a third class ticket, but all the other compartments were crammed full. You don't mind if I stay here, do you?'

  'No, of course not,' Eloise said smiling, but her words were drowned by Beth's angry howls which were now reaching a crescendo and Joss was also beginning to cry.

  'Go on, love,' the woman said, nodding at Beth. 'Give Baby what she wants. I've had ten kids of my own so you won't shock me. I'm Gladys, by the way. Gladys Danby.'

  'I'm Eloise Cribb. How do you do?' Eloise hesitated, biting her lip. 'Supposing the guard comes along to check the tickets? It would be so embarrassing.'

  'Don't worry, love,' Gladys said, chuckling. 'The guard is my second cousin. He's a married man himself.'

  Eloise managed a weary smile. Her nerves were already stretched as taut as violin strings at the prospect of facing her in-laws, whom she had met only once, and that was at her wedding three years ago. Papa had been adamant that she should take her children up to Yorkshire, and, in the end, she had had no choice. When she had returned to the house in Myrtle Street, Eloise had discovered that the landlord had changed the locks and the bailiffs had seized what little furniture she owned. Fanny Higgins had managed to save her clothes and books, which were of little second-hand value, but everything else had been taken in lieu of outstanding rent. It was the final blow that had convinced Papa that the only solution was to send Eloise and her babies to live with Ronnie's parents in their vast Gothic house on the outskirts of Scarborough.

  'You can borrow my shawl, love,' Gladys said, heaving her heavy body from the seat. She plucked the shawl from round her shoulders, passing it to Eloise. 'That'll save your modesty.'

  Beth's cries were so insistent and real tears were oozing from her eyes, that Eloise felt she had little alternative. She took the shawl and rearranged her clothing so that Beth could suckle. 'Thank you, Mrs er . . .'

  'Call me Gladys, if you please. Mrs Danby sounds so formal. My hubby and me have a farm outside of Driffield. Where are you going then?'

  Eloise was unused to such open curiosity. People in London were not usually so forthcoming, or so nosey. She was temporarily saved from answering by Joss, who was apparently tired of being well behaved and had decided that Mrs Danby's wicker basket was much more interesting than the view from the window. 'Joss, leave the lady alone.'

  Gladys chuckled and lowered the basket so that he could peep inside. 'Don't scold him. He's just curious.' She delved in and pulled out a brown paper bag. 'I've got a buttered bread cake in here. Just the thing to keep a small boy quiet for a bit.' Without waiting to see if Eloise minded or not, she proceeded to break off small pieces and feed them to Joss, who stood by her side opening his mouth to receive the crumbs like a hungry baby bird.

  'That's very kind of you,' Eloise murmured, shifting Beth to her right breast and readjusting the shawl.

  'Have you come far then, love?' Gladys's beady brown eyes were alive with curiosity. 'You're not a Yorkshire lass, I can tell that. So where are you headed?'

  Eloise hadn't intended to tell her inquisitor anything, but Gladys was undeniably friendly and it was a relief to speak of her troubles openly and without fear of hurting anyone's feelings. The last couple of weeks had been so traumatic and fraught with emotion that Eloise was left feeling drained and exhausted. She found herself telling Gladys about Ronnie's untimely death, and how her home had been snatched from her, of her father's intractable attitude and her mother's grief-stricken tears when they had parted on Euston station. Somehow it was easier to unburden her feelings to a complete stranger than it would have been to a close friend, not that she had any friends other than Fanny. All her girlhood companions and school friends had been left behind in Dorset, and when she was living at home Eloise had been content to keep her mother company. Papa had always been rather stern and aloof, but his attitude had only strengthened the bond between mother and daughter.

  Then there had been Janet, who was not only a servant but also an integral part of the family. Janet had been with them for as long as Eloise could remember. The vicarage kitchen in Dorset had been a place of refuge when she had transgressed any of Papa's strict rules or infringed his moral code by truanting from Sunday school or eating chocolate during Evensong. Janet had always been there to spoil her with tasty treats from the larder, or to bandage a scraped knee when Eloise had fallen over in the garden. It had been Janet who had helped her creep out of the house to meet Ronnie without her parents knowing. That had been the first and only time that Eloise had done anything behind her mother's back, and at the start it had only been a bit of fun, an escape from the rather dull routine of daily life. Then she realised that she had fallen madly in love with him, but she also knew that Papa did not approve of the young merchant navy officer, and had hoped that she might marry someone like their staid young curate. Eloise had confessed the whole thing to her mother, desperate to gain her approval, and she had not been disappointed. Mama had understood and had told her to follow her heart – and she had done just that.

  Ronnie had made everything so exciting and he had enthralled her with tales of his sea voyages and the foreign lands he had visited. She could still recall the first time he had kissed her. It had been on a starry night beneath a huge harvest moon, although they had been sitting on a gravestone in the churchyard, which was not quite so romantic, but his kiss had set her pulses racing and left her aching for more. A shooting star had pierced the black velvet sky. She had known it was an omen. They were meant for each other and would never be parted. Eloise sighed at the memory.

  'I think Baby's had her fill, love,' Gladys said, setting Joss down on the seat beside her. She leaned over to take the sleeping baby from Eloise's arms while she adjusted her clothing. 'The precious little mite! So, you're going to live with your hubby's parents, are you? I don't envy you, lass. I never got on with my mother-in-law, but of course you may be different. It wouldn't do if we was all alike, now would it?'

  Eloise snapped back to reality. In her mind she had been reliving the first heady days of discovering love with Ronnie. Gladys's brisk tone brought her down to earth with a bump. She gazed dismally out of the window at bare brown fields flashing past and flicks of white snow piled up in the hedgerows. 'It will be all right,' she said, swallowing a lump in her throat the size of a pigeon's egg. 'I'm sure we'll get by.'


  Gladys placed Beth back in Eloise's arms and she retrieved her shawl, hitching it over her shoulders. 'Well, at least you'll be well fed, love.'

  Eloise stared at her nonplussed. 'I'm sorry?'

  'Well, you would be, wouldn't you? I mean folk round these parts all know about Cribb's meat pies and sausages. A pie and pea supper wouldn't be the same without their tasty steak pies with lashings of good gravy.'

  'Meat pies?' Eloise stared at her in surprise. She knew that Ronnie's parents were in trade, but he had never mentioned pies and sausages. In fact he rarely spoke about his family at all. He had gone to sea when he was just fourteen and did not appear to have spent much time at home in the ensuing years.

  'You didn't know?' Gladys went back to her seat, chuckling. 'They're famous throughout the East Riding and the whole of Yorkshire come to that. Don't they have Cribb's pies where you come from?'

  'I – I'm not sure.'

  Gladys picked up Joss and sat him on her knee. 'I think I've got a slice of lardy cake in the bottom of my basket. Shall we see if we can find it?' She allowed Joss to rifle round until he found it, and she broke off a piece for him. 'You don't know much about your in-laws then?'

  Eloise shook her head. 'We only met once, and that was at the wedding.'

  'Not that I'm one to gossip, but I grew up on a farm near Ganton, which is just a few miles from Scarborough, and folk round there remember when old man Cribb started. He had a pork butcher's shop on the outskirts of the town and then he went on to making meat pies. He's done well for himself has Harcourt Cribb. He's got plenty of brass, so you and the little ones will be seen right.'

  Eloise wiped a trickle of milk from Beth's lips. 'I'm sure we will.' Somehow Gladys's words were not much of a comfort to her. If Ronnie's parents were so wealthy, why hadn't he asked them for money when they had needed it so badly? Now there were more unanswered questions buzzing around in her brain. Fortunately Gladys was too busy feeding Joss to carry on with the conversation and they lapsed into silence until the train once again began to slow down.

  Gladys wiped Joss's sticky hands and face with the cloth which had covered her basket. 'This is my station coming up, love. I hope it works out for you, I really do. But if ever you need a shoulder to cry on, you'll always find a welcome at Danby Farm, Driffield. Anyone in the village will point you in the right direction.' She stood up, staggering a little as the train reduced speed. 'Goodbye, young Joss. You be good for your ma, do you hear me?' She ruffled his curls and picked up her basket. As the train slowed to a halt Gladys tugged at the leather strap to let the window down. She leaned out to unlock the carriage door and climbed stiffly down to the platform. 'Goodbye and good luck, lass. I think you may need it.' She gave Eloise a cheery wave as the train pulled slowly out of the station.

  It was dark by the time they arrived at Scarborough station. Both Joss and Beth were sleeping and Eloise had to summon a porter to help her with her luggage. She stepped down onto the platform with Beth hitched over her shoulder and Joss, still half asleep, clinging to her hand. Eloise gasped as the bitterly cold air hit her lungs. The familiar sooty smell of London had been replaced by the bracing tang of salty air blustering in from the North Sea. The porter stood with her battered suitcase in one hand and her valise in the other. 'Is anyone meeting you, ma'am?'

  Eloise could hardly speak as her lips were already numbed with cold. The wind seemed to cut straight through her thin woollen mantle and she cuddled the children closer to her. 'I think so.'

  The old man eyed her with some sympathy. 'Let me see if there's a carriage waiting for you then, ma'am. You'll want to get the little ones inside out of the cold.' He led the way along the almost deserted platform to a waiting room where a coal fire blazed up the chimney. 'You wait in here while I go and take a look outside.'

  Eloise went to sit by the fire, thankful at least that Beth was still sleeping, and she lifted Joss onto the seat beside her, holding him close as his head lolled against her. She was tired, cold and hungry, not having eaten anything since breakfast, and then she had only managed to swallow a couple of mouthfuls of toast. She could still see the tears glistening in her mother's eyes as she tried to make conversation at the breakfast table. It had been a gloomy meal and Papa had barely spoken at all, except to promise to send a telegram to Cribb's Hall, asking them to meet the London train. A spark shot out of the fire and lay glowing on the tiles in the grate. Eloise stared it at until its bright light turned to ash. That was how her life seemed to be right now. She had left everyone she loved in London, and in a few days' time her parents would be on board ship bound for Mombasa. Mama had promised to write every day, but they had both known that letters could take weeks, even months, to reach England, if at all. Papa's mission was at a place with an unpronounceable name which was many miles from the nearest town. Eloise tried hard not to think about the dangers that might beset them. Wild animals, poisonous snakes, disease – the list was terrifying and endless.

  She turned with a start as the door opened. It was not the friendly face of the aged porter but another, equally elderly man, with weather-beaten features that seemed to have been knapped from flint. 'Come with me, missis.' Without waiting for her reply, he picked up her luggage and left the waiting room, leaving the door to swing back on its hinges so that she had to wedge it open with the toe of her boot.

  Eloise was too overwrought and nervous to complain. With both children clasped in her arms she followed the old man along the dimly lit platform, out through the main booking office onto the station forecourt where a ponderous and old-fashioned carriage was waiting for them. A young lad who had been holding the horses leapt forward to open the door for her while the coachman tossed her luggage onto the box.

  'Here lady, let me hold the young 'un while you get in.'

  She was hampered by her long skirts and Eloise reluctantly allowed the boy to hold Joss while she climbed the steps and settled herself on the seat. 'Thank you,' she said, as he laid the sleeping Joss on her lap. 'What is your name, boy?'

  'Ted, miss. I'm stable boy at Cribb's Hall.'

  'Thank you, Ted.' She managed a wan smile as he grinned at her and tipped his cap before closing the carriage door. She leaned back against the squabs that smelt oddly musty with a faint hint of pipe tobacco and Macassar oil lingering in the well-worn leather, but at least it was a few degrees warmer inside than outside. As the coach lurched forward, Eloise clung to her babies for dear life. She could not imagine what lay before them as the vehicle lumbered onwards, plunging into pitch darkness when the street lights came to a sudden end. It was a moonless night and she could see nothing outside the windows except the flashing of the carriage lamps reflected in the snow, as the carriage jolted over ruts and potholes in the road. She drifted into the sleep of sheer exhaustion but was awakened some time later by the sound of voices and a cold blast of air as the carriage door was wrenched open. Feeling dazed and disorientated, Eloise allowed Ted to take Joss while she stepped down onto hard-packed snow. She blinked in the sudden light from the blazing flambeaux that illuminated the imposing and rather awesome frontage of the Gothic mansion. The leaping flames of the torches reflected eerily in the panes of the tall windows, creating the illusion of lighted candles held in unseen hands as if ghosts were performing a stately dance in the empty rooms. Even the red-brick walls seemed to glow as though the whole building was on fire and the snow surrounding the mansion was tinged with crimson, like spilt blood. Eloise suppressed a shudder as she gazed up at the turrets and gargoyles glaring down at her from the roof.

  'Go on up, ma'am,' Ted said, handing Joss back to her. 'They're expecting you in the big house.' He tipped his cap and hurried to answer a summons from the irate coachman. Eloise couldn't hear what the man said, but it was enough to make Ted snap into action. The carriage drew away, heading towards the stable block, and she was left standing alone at the foot of the wide sweep of stone steps with her cases on the ground beside her. For a moment she thought that no one had
noticed her arrival, but then the double doors of the main entrance were flung open and a woman in a severe black gown stood in the doorway. She held an oil lamp in one hand and she beckoned to Eloise. 'Come on in then, if you're coming. Or do you want to spend the night on the doorstep?'

  Shocked by the woman's brusque tone, Eloise carried the children up the steps, pausing at the top to stare at the person who had addressed her in such a rude way. 'I beg your pardon, ma'am. But I thought I was expected here.'

  'Of course you are. Come inside and let me close the door.'

  'My luggage,' Eloise protested.

  'It will be dealt with, never fear.' She looked Eloise up and down as if she were evaluating the cost of her outfit. 'So you are Ronald's widow.'

  Eloise swallowed hard. She had thought this woman must be the housekeeper, but she did not appear to be a servant, despite the chatelaine holding a bunch of keys which hung from her waist. 'I am Eloise Cribb, but you have the advantage over me, ma'am.'