In the Bleak Midwinter

by Carol Rivers

  ‘You can’t push a pram all the way over to Hailing House, not in your condition!’ Harry was unable to hide his dismay.

  ‘Flo and me have carried things that way before,’ she dismissed. ‘I’m sure to be as right as rain after a night’s rest.’ She slid her hand through his arm. ‘Now, Harry, I’ll lean on you, if you don’t mind and we’ll make our way home.’

  They started off at a slow pace, but by the time they’d gone a few yards, she was struggling. He was in no position to comment or even suggest that the mission tomorrow be delayed, but that ankle would be up like a balloon if she didn’t rest.

  Then he had an idea. If he said it right, it might even work.

  ‘I’ll be going out early meself,’ he said casually. ‘I’ve got one or two things on, and perhaps I could be of some help.’

  ‘In what way, Harry?’

  ‘I’ve the hire of a pony and trap for the day. You see, I’m giving a lift to someone. Just a favour to a friend.’

  ‘A favour?’ Her eyes, darker than the brown earth itself, stared into his and uneasily he nodded.

  Her face looked suddenly strange, remote, in a way he couldn’t puzzle out. But he ploughed on with his imaginative story, knowing he’d have to get to the point of it sharp, before she guessed his intention.

  ‘It will be afternoon – or even teatime, if you see what I mean.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ she nodded, ‘I think I do.’

  ‘So with the morning to kick me heels I was going to take meself up to the city. After all, it would be a shame to waste the day’s hire.’

  ‘Indeed, a pony and trap must cost a small fortune.’

  ‘Er, no. It’s a mate of mine and—’ He tapped the side of his nose.

  ‘A very good mate, I would say,’ she nodded.

  ‘My point being,’ he rushed on, the heat under his collar growing, ‘that I can as easy take you to Hailing House as to go wasting me time in the city.’ He gave a cough to clear his throat.

  ‘You’d do that for me?’ Her glance came up wide and startled.

  ‘It’s not out of my way, not by a long shot.’

  ‘Except one way is east and the other west.’

  ‘And neither really matters to me,’ said Harry with a genuine shrug. He was beginning to believe his own story! After all, what better thing had he to do if he was giving himself the day off from work? And tomorrow was such a day. He’d make his way over to a pal who had a nice little pony he used for the races. Grease Jim Pilgrim’s palm with a few shillings and Bob’s your uncle. ‘It’s no trouble at all,’ he added confidently now.

  ‘As long as you’re not late for your friend,’ Birdie said with conviction.

  ‘Me? I’m never late. You can set your alarm by Harry Chambers.’ He laughed as his arm tightened a little, lifting her gently against him.

  ‘Well, then, I should like to warm up that trap seat for your friend,’ she smiled, holding on tightly as she limped along.

  ‘It’s as good as settled.’ Harry slowed his steps and took the entire burden of her slight weight. He was in no hurry to get home.

  No hurry at all.

  Lady Annabelle turned on a sixpence, lifting her long-fingered hands above the swirl of her skirt. The tangerine bow that Birdie had taken such care with, lay low on her hips and was tied at the back, matching the colour of the band of her wide-brimmed, floppy hat.

  Mrs Belcher, having deposited the best china cups and silver teapot, milk jug and tea strainer on the rectangular coffee table, was all gasps as Lady Annabelle continued to parade over the highly polished boards of the beautiful drawing room.

  Birdie glanced over to where Harry was sitting on the gold-braided settee under the long window decorated by heavy brocade curtains and matching golden tassels. His dark looks were silhouetted against the bright sunshine streaming in. He wore a thick jacket, but his collar was open, against the dark grain of his skin. As promised, he had arrived with the little grey pony and trap at half-past ten and, after seeing Birdie was comfortably aboard, had driven them over to Hailing House. It had been such an enjoyable ride that she had quite forgotten her sprained ankle. Sitting beside Harry, she’d enjoyed the fresh morning air and the light breeze, and with Lady Annabelle’s dress folded carefully over her lap, she had felt relief wash through her. At last the dress was complete and even if Lady Annabelle wasn’t there to try it on, at least the finished article had been delivered on time.

  As the trap bounced pleasantly along, Birdie was excited, despite her delicate ankle. Rising early, she’d pressed her waves into order and put on one of her best winter frocks over which she wore her blue coat. She’d given it a good press and pinned the black cat that Harry had given her for Christmas to the collar.

  She was surprised when Lady Annabelle greeted them at Hailing House. ‘Birdie, how wonderful to see you.’

  ‘I didn’t expect to find you here, Lady Annabelle.’

  ‘I decided not to go to the country this weekend. James is driving me into the city this afternoon to meet Felicity, who is just home from the Continent. We are going to have tea at the Savoy. Now, why are you limping?’

  ‘Harry drove me here, since I twisted my ankle.’

  ‘You poor thing!’ Lady Annabelle took her arm, calling over her shoulder, ‘Come along, Harry! We must be formally introduced.’

  Birdie smiled to herself. Harry had told her he would wait outside, but she knew that Lady Annabelle had mischief in her eyes and wouldn’t hear of him waiting in the cold.

  The joy was evident on Lady Annabelle’s face as she twirled again, demanding to know what they thought of the dress.

  ‘It’s a dream, Lady Annabelle,’ Mrs Belcher sighed. ‘Fits you like a glove. Not a stitch to be seen, either.’

  ‘Perhaps just a little tuck here.’ Birdie stepped awkwardly forward. Her ankle still hurt, though it was a great deal better than it would have been if she’d walked all the way to Hailing House on it. ‘If I am to make this right, then I shall take the frock with me and make one more alteration at home.’

  ‘Do as you please, but I would be quite satisfied with this.’ Lady Annabelle pressed her back down in the chair. ‘You’ll need to rest. Sprained ankles can be such an inconvenience.’ She glanced at Harry with a twinkling smile. ‘There are some rewards, of course.’

  Birdie blushed. Harry sat stiffly on the buttoned golden settee that belonged to an elegant four-piece suite. He too had gone pink as he was introduced to Lady Annabelle.

  ‘Now, do tell me, Harry, what do you think? I must have your opinion,’ Lady Annabelle insisted.

  Birdie was amused to see Harry’s embarrassment. ‘I’m not much of a judge when it comes to female attire,’ he faltered. ‘But a dress made by Birdie Connor is one to be proud of.’

  ‘Oh, well said, Harry.’ Lady Annabelle held out her skirt. ‘Birdie is such a marvel.’

  ‘It was you who drew the design,’ Birdie said modestly. ‘All I did was to follow it. And if I am to get it perfectly right, I should like to take in another pleat and see to the finishing of the hem.’ Birdie seized a thread that seemed to have escaped and snipped it off expertly with the scissors from her bag.

  ‘How easy you make that sound, Birdie. All Mummy’s friends will want to know who made such a garment.’ Lady Annabelle paused, frowning thoughtfully. ‘Have you ever thought of professional dressmaking? I should be delighted to introduce you to the right people. And with the right premises, you would do famously!’

  Birdie thought of Don and his intention that she should give up dressmaking. She was to work at the store. The shop was to be her destiny. For a moment, she felt sad. Bernadette had always told her that she might not have been born with a silver spoon in her mouth, but a needle and thread. And this would see her through life as favourably. Was it possible to do as Lady Annabelle said?

  Birdie felt a thrill at the compliment. Yet, she was to become Mrs Thorne soon. Whatever was she thinking?

  Harry set down his cup
and saucer. ‘I must go out to the pony,’ he said, nodding towards the window through which the pony and trap could be seen tethered.

  Lady Annabelle smiled. ‘Thank you, Harry, for bringing Birdie. We should all be in such a state without her. I do believe I have the best dressmaker in all of London.’

  Harry smiled at Birdie as he left.

  Birdie knew she should tell Lady Annabelle that she would no longer be able to sew for her. But somehow she couldn’t find the words.

  ‘What a very nice young man,’ Lady Annabelle said when Harry had gone and Mrs Belcher had taken the tray to the kitchen. ‘I can see he thinks a great deal of you. Now, how is your father?’ Lady Annabelle sat beside her, careful to arrange the folds of her dress neatly.

  ‘He keeps well enough, but his chest can be the devil.’

  ‘And Francis? Is there any news?’

  Birdie felt herself go cold. ‘None to speak of,’ she answered, hiding her face so that Lady Annabelle couldn’t see she was lying.

  ‘I want you to come to me if there is anything I can do to help.’

  ‘That’s very good of you, Lady Annabelle. But there’s nothing.’ She added quickly to hide her unease, ‘Now, I must insist that I make that alteration and take the dress with me.’

  ‘As you wish.’ Lady Annabelle walked over to the writing desk and lifted an envelope. She gave it to Birdie. ‘Here is what we settled on, accompanied by a little extra.’ The envelope felt heavy in Birdie’s hands. ‘And remember there is always a friend here at the House, should you need one.’

  These kind words went to Birdie’s heart as Lady Annabelle went to change. But after saying her goodbyes, and joining Harry, Birdie couldn’t help thinking that Frank’s plight needed a small miracle if ever he was to prove his innocence and become a free man again.

  Chapter 25

  Birdie sat beside Harry, her mind far away as she enjoyed the gentle sway of the trap and the rhythmic trot of the pony. Lady Annabelle’s delight at receiving the dress had been very rewarding. And now, instead of struggling home with a sprained ankle, Harry was driving her, and even the sun had come out to warm the cold February day.

  Lady Annabelle had been kind to offer her friendship, and Birdie knew this was a genuine offer. She also knew that inside the envelope, now tucked safely in her work-bag, was a generous payment that would resolve any debts outstanding at home. Whilst she’d been working at the shop, the rent had been left unpaid and she was down to the last of the provisions in the larder. She’d run up ten bob on the slate at the grocery shop along Manchester Road, and there was the gas to put by, but all this could now be addressed. It was just that in the midst of all these things coming right, there was a darker corner of her life, with Frank hidden in it: her brother, her friend, on the run from the law and mixed up with rogues, shunned by their father and reviled by Don.

  What was she going to do when she was married? Would she continue in the same way, hiding her feelings for Frank, ignoring his existence? And what if Frank was recaptured? Would she never go and visit him, speak to him, comfort him in his place of capture? For believing what he had told her – that he was completely without guilt – she could never disown him.

  ‘Hey-oop, little fella!’ Harry exclaimed beside her, and pulled up the pony as she came back to the present. They weren’t in March Street, for Harry had driven them down to the river where the water glistened like a shiny silver ribbon in the sunshine. The big ships were anchored whilst the goose-neck cranes stood like thin, stiff birds, waiting to swoop on their prey. All the cargoes were stacked and silent, before the hive of activity that preceded Monday. Church bells pealed across the city and Harry lay down the reins as the little grey pony chomped quietly on his bit.

  ‘The island is a fine sight,’ he mused, leaning forward, his thick dark lashes fanning down on his cheeks. Resting his elbows on his knees he gazed thoughtfully over the river. ‘Even in winter, when the water beckons you, tempting you on as far as you wish to go.’

  ‘And where would you be going?’ Birdie asked as she heard the note of longing in his voice. ‘If you had your chance and all the money in the world, where would you choose?’

  He laughed, turning his dark head and smoothing the leather reins absently through his fingers. ‘Oh, I don’t know. I haven’t let meself dwell on travelling for a while now. Not since . . . well, for a bit, anyway.’

  Birdie wondered if he was thinking of her, the girl who would take her place beside him later in the day, and she asked her next question hoping to draw him out. ‘Is there any reason for this?’ she enquired with all the nonchalance she could muster. ‘I mean, you’re still young and healthy, and you’ve not got a family to think of, a wife and children who might hold you back.’

  But she was to be disappointed as he merely shrugged, causing her to notice how his broad shoulders stretched the width of his jacket and how he had a habit of crinkling up his smile as he paused to think.

  ‘I’ve found me peace,’ he said after a while. ‘I’ve fitted into a new life. Oh, don’t take no notice of my ramblings. See, any man will tell you he’s restless when he studies the horizon. He fancies himself a boy again, with a million adventures enticing him away. But I’ve had me fair share of travelling. Seen plenty of sights and maybe I’ll return to some of them one day. It’s said that from Table Mountain you can see all of Africa and smell the perfumes of heaven itself. Some like to think that if you reached high enough, you’d be able to touch the sky.’

  ‘Oh, Harry, that sounds lovely.’

  He laughed again, a deep, rich sound that pulled at her senses. ‘Like I said, take no notice of me. I’m dreaming – but it’s on a day like this that a dream only seems a heartbeat away.’

  Again, Birdie wondered if he meant her, the girl without a name, who caused him to sound and look like he did, a man caught up in a desire. Perhaps a man thinking about his true love.

  ‘What about you?’ he asked then, quick to turn the tables as he eased back and draped the reins across his long legs. ‘Is there a country you’d like to visit, somewhere you’ve never seen?’

  ‘Oh, I’ve never been away from the city,’ she dismissed. ‘But I’d go to the Emerald Isle if I got the chance. Our mother said shamrocks grow in great green fields there. She used to say all the luck in the world was in their four leaves. So, if ever I went, I’d fill me baskets full and bring them all home.’ She laughed at the notion. ‘But I don’t suppose I’ll have the chance.’

  ‘And why not? You have all your life before you,’ Harry answered sincerely.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she hesitated, looking away, ‘what with the store an’ all. There won’t be much time for travelling. Don’s never said much about such things.’

  ‘Are you willing to settle for that?’ His long, searching stare made her feel as though she might have wings on her heels and could do anything in the world she dreamed of. ‘Or have you a thought that lights up the day when you think of it?’

  Birdie knew what he meant. Hadn’t she felt just such a feeling a short while ago in the presence of Lady Annabelle? When she’d tried to curb that reckless excitement at the thought of making those ladies all their frocks, with herself decked out in a fine wool suit of pearl grey, just like Lady Annabelle’s. There, too, was a shimmering silk scarf around her neck and her hair freshly Marcel waved, with a discreet touch of lipstick and a dab of colour on her cheeks. There she was, in the midst of all these ladies, who would so like her to make dresses for them, all clamouring to have her opinion and giving her orders, until she was almost drowned in their requests!

  Hadn’t she felt it then? Hadn’t she felt that lighting up? Hadn’t she felt what she had lost, until Harry made it come back again. It was hope she had lost. Hope for the future, for herself and Frank, and for Dad and Pat, hope that life would eventually hold happiness for the Connors and freedom for Frank, and all the other joys that had seemed squeezed out for so long.

  ‘I . . . I don’t kno
w,’ she lied, looking away. ‘Sure, I’ve got what I wanted. Marriage to a good hard-working man too, in Donald Thorne. Now what girl wouldn’t light up at the thought of that?’

  Daring then to look at him, she raised her chin and gave a nod, as if to settle the matter completely.

  ‘And what about Frank?’ he asked. ‘Where will he be in your life when you’re married?’

  ‘I . . . I haven’t thought much about it.’ This time she answered honestly. ‘Well, I hadn’t, until a couple of weeks ago when I saw him.’

  ‘You saw him?’ Harry looked shocked.

  ‘I did, indeed.’ Little by little she told him what happened. ‘This Inga, the one who wears the breeches, has made our Frank believe she’ll help him. Swears she’ll get him over to France, but I don’t trust her, nor the other one they call Erik.’

  Harry was thoughtful for a while. ‘They sound a rum lot to me.’

  She nodded. ‘Frank’s always had an eye for the girls and this Inga is no exception, despite the fact she wears a man’s clothes. As if he isn’t in enough hot water already, he’s talking about helping these Whites against the Reds.’

  ‘But these are the two opposing sides in the Russian Civil War. The Red Army and the White Army. Why would they want to involve Frank in their politics?’

  ‘She must have her reasons. Or else she wouldn’t have convinced Frank they are his friends.’

  Harry gave her a thoughtful frown. He seemed on the point of saying something, but instead shrugged and lifted the reins, clicking his tongue at the little grey pony.

  Thanks to Harry’s help that day, Birdie’s injury soon healed and, on a bright and sunny morning the following week, Don met her as she walked into the shop.

  ‘Good morning, Brigid.’ He looked pleased with himself. ‘I’ve settled the day of our wedding.’

  ‘You have?’ She could hardly believe it.