A True Love of Mine

by Margaret Thornton

  She walked off the stage to loud applause and resounding cheers from the more exuberant members of the audience. Her family and friends all crowded round her, congratulating her, as did some other people who were complete strangers.

  ‘I knew you’d win,’ Jessie told her.

  ‘Well done, little sis,’ said Patrick.

  And Samuel smiled at her and said she had a very pleasing voice.

  ‘You must be very proud of your daughter,’ Maddy heard a lady who had been sitting nearby remark to Faith.

  And she heard Aunty Faith reply with a smile, ‘She’s not my daughter, just a very dear friend. But you are right; we are all proud of her.’ Then she turned to Jessie, stroking her fiery hair. ‘This is my daughter, Jessica, and we are proud of her as well. What a wonderful afternoon it has been.’

  ‘Oh, you are the clever girl who recited the long poem,’ said the lady. ‘Very well done! What a marvellous memory you must have, my dear.’

  Maddy and Jessie were quite dazed with all the excitement. Jessie was still bright pink with pleasure, but Maddy felt that she would like to get away from it all soon and have a few minutes’ quietness.

  They were all going back to the house where the Barraclough family were staying whilst they were in Scarborough. It was on Blenheim Terrace, the road that led up to the castle, overlooking the sea. Well, not exactly all of them… Just the family: herself, Patrick, and her father and grandfather. The other people who had come to watch the show – Aunty Louisa, Bella and Miss Phipps – hadn’t been invited because Faith didn’t know them quite so well.

  When all the talking had finished – Maddy had seen Uncle Percy chatting away to her father, and then he had come over to her and Jessie, telling them how well they had done – and all the goodbyes had been said, Maddy and Jessie set off across the beach ahead of the others, then up the steps and the cliff path which led to the holiday home. They did not say very much because they needed all their breath for the stiff climb.

  Maddy was thinking about Bella who had been acting rather strangely. She and Miss Phipps and Aunty Louisa had all come to look at her little silver cup and certificate and to tell her how nicely she had sung. She had not expected Bella to be too enthusiastic in her praise – she had heard her remark several times in the past that she didn’t like children who were ‘too big for their boots’ – but to her surprise she had noticed that Bella’s black eyes were shining with unshed tears and there had been a little catch in her voice when she said, ‘Very well done, Madeleine.’ It was hard to understand, but as she had often heard Grandfather say, ‘There was nowt so queer as folk…’

  She quickly put Bella out of her mind, though, when they reached Jessie’s home and waited for her mother to arrive and open the door. It was a jolly tea party which Faith had prepared beforehand, and Maddy was glad when the conversation drifted on to other topics instead of the successes of herself and Jessie.

  ‘Percy Morgan was telling me that the Pierrots are coming back to perform at the Spa in December,’ said William, ‘for two weeks. Well, not exactly the Pierrot show; the same artistes, but they have a travelling company called Morgan’s Melody Makers during the winter season. I was wondering if we might go and see them? It would be a nice treat, just before Christmas. What do you think about that, Maddy?’

  ‘Ooh, yes please!’ said Maddy. ‘All of us, do you mean?’

  ‘Well, yes…of course. But I can’t speak for your Aunty Faith and her family.’

  ‘Ooh… Could we, Mother, please?’ asked Jessie. ‘On a Saturday, when there’s no school?’

  Faith looked thoughtful. ‘Maybe…’ she said. ‘We might be able to manage a weekend. Some of the hotels on South Bay open during the winter. We wouldn’t be able to stay at this house, not just for two days. I’m not promising…but we’ll see.’

  Maddy and Jessie exchanged excited glances as Faith went on to say, ‘Percy Morgan told me they have a week booked in York as well, in January. He thought we might be interested with us living there. So…that might be another possibility.’

  Maddy was not sure if anyone else noticed the look that passed between her father and Faith. Each of them had a sort of half-smile on their face, and she thought she saw her father raise his eyebrows a little as though he was asking a question, and Faith gave the merest nod of her head in reply. She didn’t know whether she should mention it to Jessie, but in the end she decided not to. She knew that sometimes fathers – and mothers – got married again when their partners had died. A girl in her class at school had a new stepfather, and a boy she knew had a stepmother. The both seemed quite happy about it.

  Her mind started to leap ahead to what might happen. Supposing…just supposing that her father and Jessie’s mother were to get married? Not yet, of course. She knew that her father was still very, very sad sometimes when he thought about her mother. She could always tell when he was unhappy, but at other times he was able to laugh and joke, like he had been doing today. Of course Jessie’s mother – Aunty Faith – still had a husband. They didn’t live in the same house any more, but he wasn’t dead. She wasn’t sure what they might be able to do about that…

  It was odd to think about it, but the idea of being Jessie’s stepsister – is that what she would be? – didn’t displease her. But the thought that Samuel might become her stepbrother, and Patrick might become Jessie’s stepbrother…and then there were Tommy and Tilly as well. Oh dear! It was all too confusing to even think about…

  William was thoughtful, too, as he buried himself behind his newspaper at home, later that evening. Faith had confided in him that she and her husband were now living apart, but he was continuing to support her and the children very generously. She had even told him, in hushed tones, that there was another woman involved and that the question of divorce had been raised. At least, that was what her husband wanted, but divorce, to Faith, was such a shameful and scandalous matter that she could not, at the moment, consider it. For the sake of the children, she had added.

  William had loved Clara deeply and faithfully. But there could be no harm, he told himself, in continuing his friendship with Faith. After all, she had been Clara’s friend as well. Perhaps he could suggest a meeting during the winter, just for the two of them, himself and Faith. Or perhaps it might be more suitable to have a family get-together? Maddy and Jessie would enjoy that; the little Barraclough girl had become a close friend to his daughter. So far he and Faith had exchanged a few meaningful glances, born out of friendship, nothing more; and in a fortnight’s time she would be returning to York. He knew he must leave the question of his feelings for her in abeyance for the moment. But he was beginning to look forward, not backwards all the time and regretting what might have been. The future no longer looked quite so black.

  And this was partly because of his dear little Maddy. Who would have believed that she would turn out to be such a resounding success on the stage? He had been moved almost to tears by the purity and clarity, the sheer beauty of her voice, and he could tell that his father had felt the same way too. She was modest, though, and had seemed truly surprised that she had won, although he knew that her self-confidence would be an asset to her. Percy Morgan had been quite overwhelmed too at hearing Maddy’s singing. He had described her to William as a ‘rising star’ and said she had a rich talent that should be encouraged. He had even requested that she might be allowed to perform occasionally with the Pierrots.

  ‘Mind you, I don’t believe in exploiting children,’ he had added. ‘I reckon nowt to taking ’em away from their education; that’s what’s important. But it is the school holidays at the moment and there’s no doubt about it that she would be a crowd puller.’

  William had been taken aback and said that he would think about it. For next year, though, he had insisted; it was far too soon at the moment for Maddy to be singing what you might call ‘professionally’. Probably Maddy herself would be thrilled at the idea, but he decided not to tell her about Percy’s suggestion; n
ot just yet.

  Bella was in a despondent mood that evening after Miss Phipps had gone home. She had felt that she had no choice but to invite the other woman to go back with her for a meal. She had watched the Moon family and the Barracloughs all disappear en masse and had felt a deep hurt right at the heart of her. Louisa Montague had not been invited either, to the family gathering, which did console Bella to a certain extent, but it didn’t seem to bother Louisa. She said a cheerful goodbye and scurried off back to her little shop. Bella was relieved; she would certainly not have wanted to invite her along as well.

  Is this really all that I deserve? she wondered as she listened to Muriel’s desultory conversation about her boring family or customers from the shop: the company of a fifty-odd-year-old spinster with nothing in her life but her far-distant family, her job and her chapel, because, like the Moons, Miss Phipps was a staunch Methodist.

  Bella breathed a sigh of relief when the woman had gone, but her thoughts were not happy or uplifting ones. She had felt strangely moved by Maddy’s singing and she had known it would be ungracious not to go and tell the child how much she had enjoyed it. Although enjoyment was not the correct word for what she had felt. There had been the poignancy of the song, so applicable to her own situation, a girl – or woman – longing for her lost love; the undoubted beauty of the girl’s voice and the delicate loveliness of her face and form. Bella, watching and listening to Madeleine, had been reminded forcibly of Clara. Her daughter was growing up to be the image of her. Seeing her up there on the stage – the golden hair, the facial features, and the selfsame mannerisms – had evoked memories which Bella would have preferred not to bring to mind.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Flags were flying from flagpoles and red, white and blue bunting was fluttering in the breeze along the promenade at Scarborough. And not only at Scarborough. All over England loyal subjects were preparing for a coronation. King Edward the Seventh who had succeeded to the throne in the January of the previous year was to be crowned in Westminster Abbey on the 26th of June, 1902.

  The shop windows along the main street of the town, from Eastborough, near the harbour, right up to the top of Westborough, were declaring their allegiance to the new monarch with displays of merchandise in patriotic colours, and many windows held large portraits of the king and his queen, the lovely Queen Alexandra, who was much admired by the womenfolk.

  The ladies’ gown shops, in particular, were paying tribute to her by displaying high-necked lace blouses, elegant dresses with tightly fitting bodices, and silken toques trimmed with ostrich feathers, such as the queen might wear. Some of the more daring stores showed, in a separate window, bathing dresses, navy blue cotton edged with red, or royal blue with white ribbon trimming to the short skirt and knee-length drawers.

  At the Moon emporium, now known as Moon’s Modes for all Seasons, it was felt, by those in charge of it, that the window dressing, as always, must be quite discreet. Many folk, in particular the older ladies, had looked askance at the changes that had come to pass. Moon’s establishment had always been associated with mourning, and some people did not take kindly to the multicoloured array of garments which, little by little, had been introduced to the once sombre windows.

  The new innovations in the store had begun the previous autumn, starting with the changing of the sign over the door. One window had still remained more or less faithful to the convention of darker-coloured clothing, but as to the other window, that had undergone quite a transformation. A cherry-red costume trimmed with ermine and with a matching muff had held pride of place during the Christmas period, followed by springtime shades of daffodil yellow and leaf green at the changing of the season.

  Now, in keeping with the national trend, patriotic colours were on display. Nothing too garish, however; afternoon dresses in two shades of blue, white lace blouses, and a splash of red from a feathered hat and a parasol. Bella Randall and William Moon had decided, in deference to some of their clients, not to trim the windows with flags and bunting. Instead there was a portrait of their Majesties placed to one side, and a discreet sign which read ‘Loyal Greetings to King Edward and Queen Alexandra’.

  Bella, by this time, was in almost full control of the store, although she was always careful to consult William before any important decisions were made. He had understood perfectly when she had told him, in the summer of the previous year, that she felt she was no longer able to accompany him on his funeral visits. She had explained that her time would be taken up now with the reorganisation of the store, but she soon realised he was well aware of the real reason.

  ‘I understand, Bella,’ he had said, with just the slightest spark of amusement in his eyes. ‘I know it has not been what you might call…your cup of tea. Actually, I was waiting for you to tell me; I didn’t want to be the one to suggest you might give up. You mustn’t feel bad about it. I must say you have coped with it very bravely considering how repugnant you found it all… Yes, I could tell. Don’t worry; I know a woman at chapel who I think might be willing to help us out. We’ve got Joe Black, of course, and he’s a great asset to the firm, but we do need a woman as well for some of the jobs…Clara was a real treasure, though; there’s no doubt about that,’ he had added reminiscently…and to Bella’s annoyance.

  She had hoped, even though she would no longer be working in such close proximity to him – for all the good it had done her! – that William might have accompanied her on trips to the various warehouses, to choose the new range of clothing. It was a feather in her cap, she supposed, that he had given her free rein on these excursions, telling her that he trusted her completely to make the right choices without referring to him. He had suggested, too, that she should take young Polly along with her sometimes so that she could learn the procedures, leaving Miss Phipps in charge of the store.

  Which was all very well for Bella career-wise. She had been given quite a substantial rise in pay, she had the comfortable flat above the shop; but she and William were as far apart, emotionally, as they had ever been. More so, in fact. She realised that he had come to regard her as a business colleague, albeit a tried and trusted one, but nothing more.

  Moreover she knew that he had seen Faith Barraclough, the woman she regarded as her rival, on at least two occasions.

  Last December, just before Christmas, the whole Barraclough tribe – Faith, Jessica, Samuel and the twins, but minus the father – had come to Scarborough. They had stayed at the Crown Hotel, so Maddy had informed her, and there had been a jolly outing to the show at the Spa Pavilion for both the Barraclough and Moon families. Bella supposed it was unreasonable of her to hope that she might be invited along as well. After all, not even Louisa Montague had been included in their party. Bella had gone with Muriel Phipps on a different occasion to see the show. It was very entertaining, there was no doubt about that; light-hearted and colourful and amusing. But the heaviness in her heart had not been alleviated at all by the lively performance of the Pierrots, alias Morgan’s Melody Makers.

  It had been Maddy who had also informed her, in great delight, that she and her father – just the two of them – were going to York at the end of January to see ‘Uncle Percy and all the others in a show there’.

  ‘Oh…that’s very nice, Maddy,’ Bella had said, trying to sound interested and not at all patronising. She still found it hard to speak normally to the girl, although Maddy did talk to her now without any of her former animosity or reluctance. ‘You will be pleased to see your friend, Jessie, again, won’t you?’ Bella didn’t want to appear too inquisitive, but she did venture a question to which she badly wanted to know the answer. ‘Will you be staying at Mrs Barraclough’s house, dear? Or…somewhere else?’

  ‘Oh no, we’re not staying with Aunty Faith,’ Maddy told her. ‘Dad’s booked us in at a hotel near to the railway station. But I ’spect I shall see Jessie quite a lot. She’s going to show me all round the city; all the old streets and the castle and the big church called the Mins
ter. I’ve never been to York before so I’m getting real excited.’

  ‘I’m sure you must be,’ Bella had replied, wondering if William was looking forward to seeing Jessie’s mother with the same eagerness. It wasn’t often that Maddy spoke to her with such enthusiasm, and Bella felt that maybe she was getting somewhere at last in gaining the child’s confidence. But with regard to her father she seemed to be making very little headway.

  Maddy had not said a great deal about the York visit on her return, except to reply politely that yes, thank you, she had enjoyed it. Bella had resisted the temptation to question her further. She did not know whether William and Faith had met at all during the intervening months, but one thing was certain. All the Barraclough clan would be there again in Scarborough for the month of August.

  In the meantime, though, there was the coronation which would be celebrated in the town, as in towns and cities throughout the land, with various events; parties and concerts and special church services.

  It was during the late afternoon of 24th June that the townsfolk started to realise that something was amiss. People were talking together in little groups in hushed voices, and the red, white and blue bunting which decorated the streets was being removed.

  ‘Have you heard about the poor old king?’ A woman who was quite a regular customer had brought the news to the Moon emporium, but this time she had not come in to shop but to spread the unhappy tidings. ‘He’s been taken ill, summat called appendicitis and he’s got to have an operation. And the coronation’s had to be cancelled.’