Eddie pushed his stick beneath the bird, but the small brown bundle fell back stiff and still.
‘Why doesn’t it fly?’ I whispered.
‘Because it’s dead, Miss Helena - its little soul’s flown straight away up to heaven. Come along now, if you walk very fast we just might have time to visit the stables. Won’t that be nice?’
Eddie dropped his stick and two pairs of boots pounded off. Nanny tugged me forward, but I craned back at the limp mound of feathers - if the bird’s soul had flown all the way to heaven, why were its wings still here?
‘Hurry up, Miss Helena - don’t dawdle.’
Indoors my hair clung clammily to my neck, and misery closed my throat as Nanny said, ‘What a shame, all your lovely curls have dropped out - nasty damp day.’
The tears spilled over and dripped down my face. Nanny’s voice was heavy with disapproval. ‘Handsome is as handsome does. I don’t want vain little girls in my nursery.’
I ate all my slimy tapioca, so Nanny let me read my book to her but I stumbled over: ‘I met ten pigs in a gig’, and stared dumbly at the next line as it danced before my eyes until Nanny lifted me firmly off her knee with ‘Time for afternoon naps - and if you’ve not picked up by teatime it’s a nice spoonful of Gregory Powder for you.’
I crept quickly away to my bed.
Ena tickled Eddie and he squealed as she dressed him in his Sunday best. I sat, poker-stiff, mourning my lost curls. I was not pretty tonight. I watched the hands of the clock, frightened that Jem would come, fearful that he would not. But tonight he came.
The stairs seemed steeper, the hall wide and cold. A big door swung smoothly open and the sound of voices swelled up and died away. I stood fixed on the threshold, terrified, until Nanny gave me a push. ‘Take your brothers in, Miss Helena - you’re a big girl now.’
I stepped on to the endless carpet.
Mama’s tall figure was above us. ‘Come along children, your grandpapa is waiting for you.’
She propelled us forward until we stopped before a heavy gold chain curving over a rounded grey waistcoat. A large head like an old grey lion’s bent over the twins. I stood behind, waiting. Eddie laughed, the lion rumbled, then suddenly the twins were gone and I was alone in front of him.
‘Kiss your grandpapa, Helena.’ Mama’s voice was high above me.
I looked desperately at the hairy face in front of me, then, eyes tightly shut, I launched myself forward. Large hands gripped my arms, there was a smell of cigars and smoke as bristles scratched my lips, then I was released and set back on my feet again. I swayed slightly.
‘How d’ye do, young Helena?’
I guessed from the tone of the rumble it was a question, but whatever was the answer? I could only stare, dumb, at the small dark eyes amidst the whiskers. He rumbled the query again, more loudly.
Mama’s hand hurt my shoulder. ‘Helena, wherever are your manners? Answer your grandfather - have you completely lost your voice?’
I tore my eyes away from the grey lion and looked desperately around for my brothers, but the only familiar sight was Jem’s green shoulders straightening up from the fire. He turned, and as he saw me his face broke into a smile and he dropped one eyelid in a wink. Relief flooded through me; of course I had a voice - a sweet voice, Jem had told me so. I knew what to do now.
I planted both feet more firmly on the carpet and raised my chin. My voice quavered as I began: ‘All things bright and beautiful’, but the soothing rhythm caught hold of me, and now I saw the birds and the flowers and old Mr Jeffson in his little house at the gate. The clear bright pictures rippled through my head and out of my mouth.
When I had finished the lion clapped. ‘So, you’ve bred a little songbird, Ria. Bravo, Helena.’
I trembled with relief at his approval. He fumbled below the chain and a shining gold coin appeared between his broad finger and thumb. ‘For you, my dear.’ My ‘Thank you’ was a whisper as I took the hard, warm coin. ‘Now go to your grandmama, little one.’
He pushed me gently away. I followed Mama’s trailing skirt across the carpet.
Grandmama’s cheek was like fine tissue paper under my lips, her hair very white above her dark eyes. She spoke softly. ‘You sang very nicely, my dear - do you like to sing?’ I nodded. ‘Who taught you?’
I whispered, ‘Ena’.
‘And who is Ena?’
I looked at her blankly. How could I explain Ena? Ena was just - Ena.
Mama broke in, ‘The nursemaid, I believe.’ Grandmama turned her head. ‘When you come to engage a governess for this child, Ria, you must ensure that she is well grounded in music. Little Helena has a good ear - it will repay training.’
Mama’s voice was impatient. ‘Obviously she must be able to play, but she isn’t a grocer’s daughter, singing for her supper in the parlour every evening.’
Grandmama’s lips tightened. ‘I sang to entertain our guests when I was a girl.’
‘Times have changed, Lady Pickering. If my guests wish to hear music, then they expect to hear it from professionals.’
Grandmama’s voice was low but imperious. ‘Muirkirk – please come here a moment.’ Papa, tall in black and white, appeared above me. ‘I’ve just been telling Ria that this little one will need a musical governess.’
Papa’s dark head bent in acknowledgement. ‘Of course, Mama. Ria will see to it.’
Grandmama smiled. ‘Send the dear little boys to me now, Ria.’
Mama and I were dismissed. I almost ran to keep up with her skirts as they swished angrily over the carpet.
A hand reached out and barred my way. The long fingers sparkled. ‘So this is your other daughter, Ria. Let’s have a look at her.’ I was pulled round to face glittering greenish eyes set above high red cheekbones. The mass of brilliant hair above was the exact colour of the ginger cat that patrolled the kitchens. I gaped at her in amazement. Two rows of large white teeth smiled at me. ‘She’s all neck and eyes - like some wretched fledgeling that’s fallen out of its nest. Don’t you feed her, Ria?’
‘I suppose Nanny does.’ Mama shrugged and dropped into a chair. ‘God, what wouldn’t I give for a cigarette.’
The lady laughed loudly. ‘Ah, one of the joys of matrimony - mothers-in-law!’ She turned her attention back to me. ‘So what’s your name, little fledgeling?’
I took a deep breath, but I was too slow. Mama’s voice broke in sharply, ‘Answer Lady Maud, Helena.’ But now I could not. Mama gave an impatient sigh.
‘Don’t waste your time trying to talk to Helena, Maud – she has no more conversation than a deaf mute. God knows how I’m ever going to bring her out.’
Lady Maud’s laugh rang out again. ‘That’s years ahead, Ria - you can soon get her trained up to say yes and no and to simper in the right places, that’s all these young girls do today, and most of them capture husbands. Besides, how can you expect the child to learn how to talk in the drawing room when you never have these youngsters down?’
Mama said defensively, ‘Alice comes down, and Guy when he’s on holiday - I can’t be bothered with the other three as well. I’m not turning my drawing room into a nursery.’
Lady Maud gave an emphatic shake of her ginger head. ‘I’ve always had Juno and Julia down when I’m at home. They can speak up for themselves now: it’s the only way. Ah, Muirkirk.’ Papa was beside her chair. ‘I’ve just been telling Ria she must get the youngsters down more often, teach ’em some manners - you don’t want them talking like nursemaids, now do you?’ Papa’s mouth smiled at Mama. ‘Lady Maud’s talking good sense, Ria - as always.’ He bowed towards the ginger hair. ‘Perhaps you should see more of the younger children.’
There were two red spots on Mama’s cheekbones. ‘Mrs Whitmore is totally competent.’
‘But still—’ Papa shrugged.
Lady Maud interrupted. ‘Why not ask the child, since she’s here? You, Helena, how would you like to come down to the drawing room every day?’
Mama a
nd Papa both turned their eyes on me, but I didn’t know how to answer.
Papa said coaxingly, ‘Now, wouldn’t that be nice, Helena - to dress up and come downstairs every evening? You’d like that wouldn’t you?’
Uncertain, I glanced down at my beautiful shoes. Mama’s voice was persuasive. ‘But you much prefer staying upstairs with Nanny in the nursery, don’t you?’ I looked from Papa’s dark shining moustaches to Mama’s arched eyebrows, and with a sinking heart knew then that whichever answer I gave one face would turn in anger from me. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.
‘Now, Helena - downstairs, eh?’
‘Of course you don’t want to - answer me, Helena.’
The voices were sharper now. Tears welled up; I tried to blink them away, but it was no use. I gulped and began to sob. For a moment silence fell in the room; my cheeks burnt as my shame was exposed to all - my sobbing was louder now.
‘I told you she doesn’t know how to behave downstairs!’ Humiliation washed over me at Mama’s words. I began to shake.
‘Guy, Alice - take your sister away.’ Papa sounded angry.
I was propelled across the floor so quickly that my feet barely touched the carpet. The door slammed shut behind us.
‘Well, what a cry-baby! You can see to her, Guy - I was talking to Juno.’ Alice was gone.
I dared not look at Guy; instead I stumbled away from the door - then stopped and gazed desperately about me. I did not recognize the wide staircase - but it must surely lead to safety. I ran towards it, but the step was too high and I collapsed, still sobbing, at the bottom. I felt Guy pat me awkwardly on the shoulder before he pushed his handkerchief into my hand. I buried my face in it.
‘It’s all right, Master Guy - I’ll carry her upstairs for you.’ It was Jem’s voice. ‘Up you come, littl’un.’
I clutched his lapels and pressed my face into his warm, tobacco-smelling neck as he carried me back to Nanny and Ena.
Chapter Four
Another red-jacketed Guardsman pitched forward and fell, to lie stiff and lifeless at my feet. Quickly I loaded my cannon and fired: Eddie’s crow of pleasure became a howl of dismay as the dried pea demolished three kilted Highlanders with one lucky shot. Robbie and I took heart and the tin cannons jumped and recoiled as we fired round after round, until only one prancing Hussar was left of Eddie’s once-mighty army, while behind our lone crouching Rifleman a column of Life Guards still stood firm.
But at Nanny’s ‘Just five minutes more, then it’s teatime’ Robbie grew reckless: his missiles flew wide while Eddie, chin jutting and lips set, trained his cannon mercilessly on our men. One by one our cavalry fell, until only Hussar and Rifleman faced each other across the carnage, locked in a last deadly duel.
‘Up you get now, Jem’s here with the tea tray.’ Robbie gave a last desperate tug at the string - and watched disbelieving as the Hussar shivered, toppled, and slowly fell to the rug.
‘We’ve won, Hellie, we’ve won!’
‘Who’s won then?’ Jem dropped down beside us. ‘Why, if it isn’t a rifle-and-pack man, just like me!’
I reached for the green-tuniced Rifleman. ‘Did you look like him, Jem, when you were a soldier?’
‘Just like him, Miss Helena.’
I felt a rush of pleasure, and gently stroked my little lead Rifleman - he was real now, he was Jem. Jem had often told us how he had run away to take the Queen’s Shilling - ‘When I was no older than Master Guy is now - silly young blockhead I were then.’
Eddie butted his way in between us. ‘Tell us about the Fuzzy Wuzzies, Jem.’
Jem shook his head, ‘It’s your teatime - Ena’d give me what for if I started yarning on when yer tea’s on the table.’
Eddie, lower lip thrust forward, reached out a sulky foot to my Rifleman - I snatched him up and clutched his small hard body next to my chest.
‘All away in their boxes, at once.’ Nanny’s voice was inflexible. Reluctantly I opened my fingers and slowly reached out to the box. But I saw now a tiny grey patch where the green paint had flaked off his shoulder, and even as I restored him to his comrades I knew I would be able to recognize him again, my Rifleman. Satisfied, I jumped up and headed for the table.
*
When Robbie and Eddie were splashing in their bath Mrs Hill came to the nursery. Her hand smoothed the black silk of her dress as she spoke softly to Nanny. Nanny frowned and nodded and I wondered whyever Mrs Hill had come all the way up the back stairs herself instead of sending one of the maids.
After we were in bed we heard footsteps and voices next door, and -something heavy being dragged across the nursery floor. Next morning three large boxes stood beside the screen. Eddie ran to them and tugged at the heavy leather straps.
‘Leave those alone, Master Eddie.’ Nanny’s voice was sharp; Eddie turned reluctantly away.
We looked at each other as we drank our milk - what did it mean?
As soon as we had finished Nanny said, ‘Now you’ve to be good children today, and behave yourselves.’ She looked round at each of us in turn; we nodded. ‘Your grandpapa is poorly and wants to see you, so we’re all going to Cheshire.’ ^1^
Cheshire! I slid the name over and under my tongue. Cheshire - it sounded smooth and silky, not like our hard blunt Yorkshire. I felt a thrill of pleasure.
It seemed a very long time before we were all buttoned into our boots and gloves with our hat ribbons tied. Hands tightly held, we set out behind the oddman, our trunk balanced on his shoulder.
The engine came thundering into the platform, with its exciting, heart-stopping clamour. As the brakes squealed I glimpsed high above us the dark, godlike figure who ruled all this noise and power.
Robbie clung to my hand and whispered, "gine driver, Hellie - Robbie be ’gine driver when he’s big.’
Mr Lewis, glossy top hat in his hand, stepped forward to find our compartment for us. He swung the door open and we clambered in.
Eddie began to bounce on the seat, but Nanny was in no mood for play today. ‘Stop that at once Master Eddie - and no taking gloves off until I say.’
We waited obediently while Nanny produced a cloth from her large handbag and dusted the compartment.
Jem jumped in seconds before the whistle blew. ‘Trunks in safe and sound, Mrs Whitmore.’ And as we watched, the platform slid slowly away from us, then faster and faster, until it disappeared. I gasped with excitement and pressed my nose against the windows to stare at the toy houses and tiny white sheep and rushing green fields.
Eddie began to jiggle on his seat, ‘Wee wee, Nanny, wee wee!’ Robbie’s voice joined in. Nanny reached into her bag and produced the squashed india-rubber cocked hat. Ena unbuttoned Eddie and held him still, then Nanny tipped the hat out of the window with a quick flick of the wrist and it was Robbie’s turn. I watched him longingly - my own discomfort was increasing, but Jem sat solidly in the corner, reading his newspaper. I pressed my legs together and sighed as Nanny stowed the hat away. Ena patted my hand.
As we drew into the next station Nanny said firmly, ‘I’m sure you’ll want to go back for a smoke, Jem lad.’
Jem looked up, surprised. ‘No, no, that’s all right, thanks Mrs Whitmore.’
There was a pain in my belly now. I looked up pleadingly at Ena. She jumped to her feet, opened the door and said firmly, ‘Out you get, Jem Barnett, we’ll see you at York.’ She snorted ‘Men!’ as his bewildered face disappeared.
I hung on grimly, but Nanny did not fail me. The black hat reappeared in a trice and Ena was unbuttoning the flap of my drawers even as the train began to move. I sank down on to the squashy rubber in an ecstasy of relief.
Eddie said loudly, ‘Why Hellie sit down, Nanny?’
‘Because little girls are made differently from little boys, Master Eddie, and I’ll thank you not to comment on it.’
We left our beautiful green engine at York. Jem strode ahead, elbowing his way through the bustling crowd. We fixed our eyes on his broad shoulders and
followed anxiously, clinging to Nanny and Ena, while Rose pressed close and the porters rattled their trolleys behind us. At last we were safe in our new compartment, watching Nanny’s duster carry out its familiar ritual.
Manchester was a vast gloomy cavern - hissing, clanking, clattering. As we drew level with the shining black monster which had pulled us so far, so fast, I hung back and gazed up in awe at the red-faced driver leaning over the side of the cab. He looked down, saw me and touched his cap. ‘Good afternoon, Missie.’
The engine driver had spoken to me! I drew a deep proud breath as Ena tugged me on.
We had pea soup at Manchester. As she placed my bowl in front of me the waitress said: ‘My, are these young men your brothers?’ T nodded proudly. ‘Well aren’t they alike. Do you know which is which?’
I ducked my head in turn and whispered, ‘Robbie, Eddie.’
‘Aren’t you a clever girl - but don’t you get them mixed up sometimes?’
I shook my head indignantly. Mama and Alice could not tell them apart, and even Ena and Guy got them muddled sometimes, but Nanny and I - never. Eddie was Eddie, and Robbie was Robbie.
Jem found us a cab and we sat mute while traffic rattled and thundered past. Dark high walls hemmed us in, and we could not see the sky. We climbed out, dazed, and stumbled along another platform and on to another train.
Robbie’s soft hair lay against my cheek; Eddie sprawled on the seat beside him, fast asleep with his head in Nanny’s lap. I struggled to keep my eyes open.
Ena whispered, ‘Wake up, Miss Helena, we’ve arrived.’
The porter called: ‘Hareford, Hareford,’ as a strange stationmaster swung the door open. We tumbled out and stood shivering in the cold air, then we were hustled through the barrier and into the waiting carriage. Nanny bundled us up in our rugs again as with a ‘Gee up’ we jolted forward and bounced out on to the cobbled street. It was dusk now but I could see pale faces peering out of shop doorways. Hands were raised to foreheads and women’s white aprons bobbed in clumsy curtseys as we rattled past. Then we were through the street and slowing down for the park gates. A plump woman swung them open and I glimpsed a row of noses pressed flat against the lodge window, round heads outlined in the lamplight.
Song of Songs Page 2
