by Betty Annand
Because Gladys didn’t know that Keith had also been killed, she waited anxiously to hear from him. Although she felt he had let her down by not saving Tom, she longed for his return, knowing that Tom would want them to be together. The thought of having at least one of them home was all that kept her going.
When she finally learned that he too had died on the battlefield while holding Tom in his arms, a complete depression overtook her. She was forced to hire a nursemaid to look after Dolly, while she retired to her bed.
Two weeks later, when her father-in-law was visiting, she came downstairs and caught sight of him bending over the crib looking at his sleeping granddaughter. For the first time since Tom’s death, she took note of his appearance and realized how the death of his son had aged him. He had done everything possible to console her in her grief, but she hadn’t once considered his feelings. Observing him now, she could see that he was as heart-broken and devastated as she was.
Andrew sensed her presence, looked up, smiled, and said, “She looks so much like Tom when he was that age.”
To his surprise, she returned his smile and came and put a hand upon his shoulder. “Yes, I can see him every time I look at her.” It had been a long time since Gladys had shown any sentiment towards Andrew, and he couldn’t stop the tears. For the longest time, they held each other close and cried. Then Dolly woke up and made a sound that was probably a hiccup, but Andrew insisted it sounded like “Grandpa” while Gladys swore it was more like “Mama.” Their tears turned to laughter.
Although Gladys was more thoughtful toward her father-in-law during the following month, she continued to pity herself and complained to Millie, “When I go to choir practice now everyone seems to have forgotten that I’m in mourning, and they laugh and joke as though nothing has happened. You would think they would have more respect. Can they not see how sad I am?”
Millie felt sorry for the girl, but she knew it was time she stopped looking for sympathy and began being thankful for what she had. “You are not the only one to lose a loved one, Gladys. Many of those you are criticizing have lost dear ones too.”
“But I am certain they didn’t have plans like Tom and I did.”
“Everyone has plans of some sort, dear.”
“Perhaps, but I’m certain none were as exciting as ours. I was all set to go to India, Millie, and I even had some of our things packed. I was going to be an officer’s wife. Can you just imagine what that would have been like over there?”
Millie was shocked. “Oh, is that what has been bothering you? It is not so much your husband’s death that has you feeling sorry for yourself. It is that you are not going to be going to India. Well, I must say, Gladys, I am disappointed in you. I thought you had more depth than that.”
“I cannot understand why you think I should not be sad. I have not only lost my husband, but the adventurous life Tom and I had planned. I thought you of all people would understand that.”
“I don’t know what you mean by that, and I do not care to know, but I will tell you this, young lady. I lost both my man and my son and had to fend for myself, while you have a beautiful daughter and a wonderful father-in-law who provides for you. You are so full of self-pity that you do not even realize how fortunate you are. Honestly, Gladys, I am losing patience with you. Now why don’t you start being thankful for the things you have instead of pining over what you don’t have?”
“I don’t know why I should be thankful. I’ve worked bloody hard for what I have.”
“My Heavens, have you forgotten that it was I who took you under my wing when you arrived here? You have only been out of the slums for a short time, and you seem to think you deserve to be a grand lady by now. Well, as far as I am concerned, you can do whatever you want, just don’t include me in your plans. Now, if you don’t mind, Mrs Pickwick, I have work to do.” With that, Millie left Gladys in the shop and went into her living room. She had never spoken to Gladys so angrily before, not even when Gladys brought her the dog, and she didn’t even say goodbye to Dolly who was awake in her pram.
Gladys left the shop with mixed feelings. As she pushed the pram up the street, she consoled herself with the thought that Millie had no right to criticize her. She didn’t seem to care that everything Gladys had dreamt about for the past nine months was now gone. There would never be an exotic trip down the Nile, no walking through the Indian markets with a manservant to carry her purchases, and no attending fancy balls just for officers and their wives. Gladys had imagined her life in India with Tom for so long that, at times, she could close her eyes and see every event with clarity. She could feel Tom’s arms around her and feel the floor under her feet as they swirled around on the dancefloor. Her images had become so real that she could lick her lips and imagine the taste of champagne.
She was not a selfish person by nature, and, although she tried to continue refuting Millie’s point of view, her common sense kept telling her the seamstress was right. She also knew how shocked Millie would be if she knew the aberrant thoughts she had before she knew that Keith had been killed as well. Although she didn’t love Keith, she knew he loved her, and would have sent for her and Dolly to join him in India. It wouldn’t have been as wonderful as being there with Tom, but she would have gone nevertheless.
All these thoughts were running through her mind as she walked along with her head down pushing the buggy. Looking up, she suddenly realized what a lovely day it was. She began to wonder how many nice, sunny days she had missed by being so miserable. For the first time in months she felt alive. She was just about to turn the buggy around to go back to Millie’s shop to apologize when she saw Emily Brooker, another young mother she knew from the church, approaching. Emily was pulling her baby in a wagon while her three-year-old son tried his best to keep up by hanging on to her skirt. Emily was somewhat surprised when Gladys greeted her with a cheery, “Hello.”
Emily said hello then bent down and looked in the pram at Dolly. “What a lovely pram! You are such a lucky little girl, just like a real princess. I have heard tell that the queen has a pram or two just like yours for her little ones.” As though she understood, Dolly honoured Emily with one of her rare smiles. Gladys smiled and said, “Thank you, Emily. It is a nice pram, isn’t it?” Andrew had purchased the pram and it was a beautiful Windsor model made of wicker with bright, shiny brass joints and fittings.
“Yes, it certainly is, but I don’t think Eddie cares if he’s riding in a fancy pram or his brother’s wagon.” After a few more exchanged pleasantries, the women went on their ways. Emily’s obvious lack of envy over the pram surprised Gladys. Lately, she couldn’t help but notice how popular Emily was with all the church ladies, and she remembered that was how they used to be with her. For the rest of that day, she did a great deal of soul-searching. Then, as she lay Dolly down in her crib, she said, “Tomorrow, I shall have to go back and apologize to your Auntie Millie.” Dolly, puzzled by the unusual soft tone of affection in her mother’s voice, offered a one-sided smile.
“Oh, Dolly, you have the same smile as your daddy!” Gladys exclaimed, and she picked her up again and hugged her. The sudden display of maternal love startled the baby for a second, but then as her mother began singing a lullaby, she snuggled down in her arms and was soon asleep.
Chapter Twenty
By the time Dolly was three, she was almost a head taller than most little girls her age. Her name was somewhat ill-suited since she took after her father and mother in build. Her features were more like Tom’s than Gladys’s; therefore, even her mother would not describe her as doll-like. However, Dolly did have a beautiful head of naturally curly hair that was a deep and warm auburn—an attractive blend of colours she inherited from both her mother and grandmother Tunner. She also had the most unusual eyes. It wasn’t their colour that held one’s attention, but the directness of their gaze—a look some found disconcerting.
Her unusually serious na
ture was often mistaken for simple-mindedness, but Andrew soon learned that his granddaughter not only had an inquisitive mind, but the intelligence to retain whatever it gleaned. The two became very close, so much so that Gladys often felt jealous.
Gladys had become fairly adept on the piano and had also learned to play the church organ, so when Dolly was old enough to attend Sunday school, Gladys often took the place of the church organist at the Sunday morning services. Then in the afternoons, if the weather was favourable, Andrew would take her, along with Dolly and Millie, in his rig for what he referred to as mystery rides.
As soon as he had them all settled in the rig, he would say, “Now, ladies,” being included in with the ladies never failed to start Dolly giggling with delight, “where do you suppose we are going today?”
Dolly’s answers were amazing for such a young child, but one day she even pleased herself when she announced, “I shall be dee-lighted to go anywhere with you, Gamby!”
One of their favourite Sunday outings was to the beach for picnics, but they also enjoyed rides to nearby villages where they usually dined at an inn before returning home. Some days they went for a ferry ride, but only if Millie wasn’t along. Unfortunately, Millie suffered from seasickness so severely it even plagued her while walking along the quay.
The place Dolly liked to visit more than any other was Sorenson Hall, or what she called “the fairy tale farm.” Lord Cedric Sorenson and his wife, Lady Madeline, were long-time friends of Andrew’s, and since they had little to do but enjoy themselves, they were always delighted to have guests.
Dolly was four when they first visited the Sorensons, who lived in Sorenson Hall. Situated on a large estate in the village of Buckland, the hall had been absorbed into Dover’s boundaries in 1830. On their first visit, Gladys and Millie were awestruck and a little intimidated by the grandeur of what seemed more like a castle than a house. However, they were put at ease when his Lordship greeted them dressed in a pair of overalls.
Once he had them seated in the conservatory, he apologized for his costume and then rushed away to notify his wife that they had guests. It only took a few minutes before her Ladyship made her entrance. She was dressed in a very stylish gown, causing Millie and Gladys to surmise that she must dress in such finery every day. They also thought that Lord Cedric must have been wearing overalls over his other clothes since he returned with his wife, clad appropriately in gentleman’s attire.
His short and stout figure blended well with his owl-like facial features. His large eyes were shaded by red and grey bushy eyebrows, while the bands of hair on the sides of his bald pate stuck out like feathery horns. Lady Madeline had a tidy little figure, a delicate complexion and agreeable features that portrayed honest delight in greeting the ladies. She was surprised to learn that Dolly was only four, and exclaimed, “My goodness you are such a proper young lady for a girl of your age. Our youngest little lad is the same age as you, my dear, but I doubt he could sit still for five minutes.” She then addressed the adults, “We have three little ones who will want to meet you, especially if we are having tea. I fear you will find them extremely lively. Did Andrew warn you?” When Andrew just laughed and shook his head, she put her hand up to her cheek and cried, “Oh, dear!”
Lord Cedric chuckled and added, “I say, old girl, you shall have these dear ladies running out the door if you’re not careful, telling them such nonsense. Actually, they are a jolly good lot, and great fun to have around. I shall send for them, since I know they shall be delighted to meet our young guest.” He pulled on a bell cord, and when the butler appeared, he inquired where the children were.
“I think they took George down to the pond for a swim, your lordship. Would you like me to send for them?”
“Yes, please do, and tell them not to dawdle, or they shall miss tea.”
The maid brought the tea shortly after, and Lady Madeline was just about to pour when three youngsters dressed all alike in coveralls, along with a duck, a goat, and a large, barking, tail-wagging, wet dog burst into the room.
Luckily Lord Cedric and Lady Madeline were so busy trying to bring order to the noisy menagerie that they didn’t notice the gaping mouths of their two lady guests. Millie and Gladys were aghast to witness so many muddy feet trampling all over what appeared to be an exquisite rug. Their hosts, on the other hand, appeared completely oblivious of any wrongdoing, even though the wet dog shook himself while standing by her ladyship and splattered her lovely gown with drops of dirty water.
Lord Cedric finally managed to hush the lot sufficiently enough to make the introductions, which the guests anxiously waited to hear, since all three wore their fiery red hair long, and in ringlets. Their faces were equally masked in freckles, making it nearly impossible to discern their sexes.
It was indeed a splendid tea, with Devonshire cream served on the finest china. And the children insisted their animals join them and have their tea served on the same dishes. When a maid brought in a gold-trimmed, flowered bowl of cream for Peter the dog, a similar patterned plate of carrots for Sally the goat, and a daintily sculpted cup and saucer of well-sugared tea for George the duck, Millie almost choked. In spite of, or maybe because of, their eccentricities, all the Sorensons were delightful hosts. Dolly was thrilled to be invited to go down to the pond with the other children to watch George swim, but since she was in her Sunday best, Gladys said she had better remain behind.
“Nonsense!” proclaimed Lady Madeline, “A pair of coveralls shall do very well over that pretty frock.” Then she directed Dolly to Nanny to be outfitted. If Dolly had a fault, it was that she was far too serious, and it did them all good to see her run happily off with the other children.
After the little ones had departed, Lady Madeline remarked on the style and quality of Millie’s outfit. When Millie replied that she was a dressmaker, and had sewn it herself, her ladyship remarked that she needed a new gown or two and she asked if Millie would be kind enough to make them. Millie was both thrilled and flattered.
Chapter Twenty-One
When Gladys worked for the Watts, she had often helped Hilda cook when business at the inn was brisk. She remembered the recipes for many of Hilda’s favourite dishes and often made them for Andrew. Andrew appreciated every meal she made and seldom refused an invitation. His favourite dish was Welsh rabbit with onions, and his favourite dessert was suet pudding made with plenty of raisins. Most called the pudding “Spotted Dick,” but Andrew called it “Spotted Dog,” which always brought a giggle or two from Dolly.
Although Andrew had offered to move his daughter-in-law and granddaughter into a much larger house with a staff of servants, he thought he understood why Gladys refused to move. He preferred living alone as well and didn’t hire live-in help. He often marvelled over how much he and Gladys seemed to have in common. Whenever he came for a meal, he would stay to play with Dolly and read her a bedtime story. He also loved to sing to her, and if she knew the lyrics, Gladys often joined in. One evening he sang a ballad titled “The Little Turtle Dove.” The first verse impressed Dolly more than Andrew knew:
“Oh can’t you see yon little turtle dove, sitting under the mulberry tree?
See how she doth mourn for her true love;
And shall I mourn for thee, my dear, and shall I mourn for thee.
O fare thee well, my little turtle dove, and fare thee well for a-while;
But though I go I’ll surely come back again.”
Andrew sang all the verses and when he was finished, Dolly jumped up and down and clapped her hands.
“So you like my little song do you?” Andrew asked.
“Oh yes, Gamby, I do!” After her grandfather left that evening, Dolly, looked very serious, and announced, “Mama, I am Gamby’s little turtle dove.”
The following day, Dolly was upstairs in the bedroom when Andrew arrived, so Gladys told him what she had said. Grinning, he winked, then calle
d out, “Where is my little turtle dove?”
Dolly came running down stairs and into his arms, “Here I am, Gamby! See, Mama, I told you so.” From then on, Andrew often addressed her by that title.
After she turned five, Dolly wearied of nursery rhymes and begged her grandfather to read something more exciting, so he began reading the books he had read to Tom when he was a little boy. Two of Dolly’s favourites were, Aladdin’s Lamp, and Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves, from Antoine Galland’s translation of The Book of the Thousand Nights.
Some of the stories were far too mature for such a young person, but Dolly listened to every word with utter delight—even words she had never heard before. Andrew had a deep, rich voice that deserved, but didn’t demand, attention. He could read a nursery rhyme as quietly and softly as a loving mother, then recite a robust verse with drum-like resonance. Gladys, who often missed the times Sally read to her and Toughie, listened to the stories and poems with as much pleasure as her daughter, even though she had become an avid reader herself. In fact, like many Englishmen, Andrew enjoyed listening to his own voice as well and was delighted to have a reason to exercise it.
On one of his visits, he mentioned to Gladys that the Watts had sold the inn and were moving to Scotland in a month’s time.
“I must try to visit them before they leave,” she said. “I never thought I’d say this, but I shall be sorry to see them go. Are they taking Pinky with them?”
“I really have no idea. Why don’t we see if Millie will look after Dolly one evening, and I shall take you there for dinner, then you can ask them yourself?”
“I would really like that!”
“Shall I drop in on Millie on my way home and ask her if we could impose on her good nature?”
Gladys answered with a sly grin, “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Look here! I don’t know if that grin you have on that pretty face is meant as an implication or not, but you are a way off course if you think Millie and I are anything more than good friends.”
