Charity

by Lesley Pearse

  ‘She hasn’t got her sticks, her glasses or even her teeth,’ Charity snapped back. ‘What can you expect? She’s not senile, she’s just frail. Haven’t you two got any compassion?’

  They both had the grace to look crestfallen. Toby shuffled from foot to foot. Prue began to cry.

  Charity sighed.

  ‘This isn’t the way I planned our reunion,’ she said. ‘I want to sit and talk to both of you, to catch up on all I’ve missed. But we have an emergency here and you are both old enough to see that. Right now we have to pull together and get things done. Do you understand?’

  They nodded.

  Charity opened the cupboards and found a lone tin of tomato soup.

  ‘I’ll give Grandmother this,’ she said. ‘Now get the washing up done, then Toby can go to the village shop and get some groceries. What have you been living on?’

  ‘Toast mostly.’ Toby grinned. ‘And fried eggs, that’s all Prue can do. By the way, what are we having for lunch?’

  ‘Toby!’ Charity felt as if she might explode. ‘For your information men also have the ability to cook, and clean. You won’t even get dinner tonight unless you pull your weight. Now, is there any bread?’

  Grandmother dunked the bread into the soup and sucked it down greedily as if she hadn’t eaten in days. Charity had found her sticks in the drawing room, her teeth and glasses in the bathroom, and already the old lady looked a little better. Sunshine showed up the dust in the room, great balls of fluff lying on the polished bare boards, and a stickily unpleasant tray of old medicine bottles and spoons. But her first fear that the woman was seriously ill had faded: a few good meals and a little tender care was all she needed.

  ‘I’m going to insist that Uncle Stephen hires a nurse for you both,’ Charity said. She sat on the side of the bed, making a list of jobs that needed doing. ‘Will you write a note for him and say you agree it’s necessary?’

  For a moment Charity thought her grandmother hadn’t heard her. She swallowed down her soup, wiping the last piece of bread round the bowl, then leaned back on the pillows.

  ‘Of course I will.’ Her lined face broke into the first smile since Charity had arrived. ‘I’ll tell him what a fool he’s been, too. You always were the best of the bunch!’

  By seven that evening Charity was exhausted. She’d been up and down the stairs to her grandmother umpteen times. She’d made ham sandwiches for Stephen for lunch, for which all she got for her pains was the barked demand: ‘Where’s the mustard?’

  Between organising Toby to do the shopping, cleaning the kitchen, preparing a shepherd’s pie for dinner and contacting cleaning and nursing agencies on the telephone, she’d had more than enough for one day.

  But when Toby wheeled Uncle Stephen into the dining room for the meal she braced herself for further confrontation.

  Stephen sat at the end of the table, Toby to his right, Charity and Prue on his left. Charity dished up the shepherd’s pie silently, then passed round the vegetables.

  Stephen was clearly very hungry, shovelling the food down with gusto. Toby and Prue were somewhat subdued. Charity had kept them busy all day, but she felt their silence had more to do with resentment than tiredness.

  ‘This is good,’ Stephen said, when his plate was nearly empty. ‘Has my mother had any?’

  ‘Yes I took hers up a while ago,’ Charity said. ‘I’ve bathed her, changed her and she’s feeling a bit better. But she needs a nurse.’

  ‘She doesn’t need a nurse,’ he said scornfully. ‘She’s as strong as an ox.’

  ‘She isn’t,’ Charity said. ‘She’s very frail and she needs more attention than I can give her. Besides, a nurse could look after you too, Uncle. It isn’t right to expect Toby and Prue to help you.’

  During the afternoon Prue had admitted she would rather run away than face helping the district nurse with her uncle’s weekly enema and bath. Toby was less disturbed by this and in fact did help Stephen dress and get him in and out of bed, but when he returned to school in September someone would have to take his place.

  ‘Nonsense,’ Stephen blustered, looking to both Prue and Toby. ‘They don’t mind helping me!’

  ‘It isn’t that they mind exactly.’ Charity tried to be diplomatic. ‘It just isn’t right. I’ve got a nurse coming for an interview tomorrow.’

  ‘Without consulting me?’ Stephen roared, banging his cutlery down on the table.

  ‘Yes, Uncle.’ Charity put her knife and fork down. ‘Furthermore I’ve also got a team of cleaners coming in. And I’ve put an advert in the local paper for permanent staff.’

  ‘You’ve what?’

  The only sound in the room was his rasping breath and for a moment Charity thought he was going to have a fit. He was swelling up, his face almost black with anger.

  ‘You heard,’ she said firmly, taking her grandmother’s note from her pocket and sliding it across the table to him. ‘Your mother is in agreement. Now it’s up to you. But if you refuse, I shall just go back to London.’

  As he added nothing more, Charity continued.

  ‘Incidentally, the bill at the local shop hasn’t been paid and I’ve ordered meat and vegetables to be delivered tomorrow, so I’ll need the money for that. I’ll stay and get everything organised if you wish. I leave it entirely up to you.’

  Toby smirked, and glanced at his uncle. Prue looked scared.

  Stephen inhaled noisily.

  ‘You’ve got a cheek coming here and giving me orders.’

  ‘Someone’s got to.’ Charity shrugged her shoulders and continued to eat her meal. ‘I do run my own business these days, Uncle Stephen. I’ve become used to giving orders, not taking them.’

  It felt sweet to get the better of him, especially knowing she could walk out if he put one foot wrong.

  ‘What sort of permanent staff?’ His tone was churlish now rather than hostile.

  ‘You need a cook-cum-housekeeper,’ she said calmly. ‘And at least one daily woman for the cleaning.’

  ‘And what will you be doing while all this is going on?’ he spat at her.

  ‘Making sure it’s done properly,’ she said calmly. ‘And by the way, I think you should insist that Prue and Toby do more. I’m ashamed how lazy they are.’

  ‘We aren’t,’ Toby and Prue said in unison.

  Charity had thought long and hard before antagonising her brother and sister, but all day she’d become more and more aware of their shortcomings. They weren’t small children any longer and she knew from experience with girls in her employ that gentleness was often taken as weakness.

  ‘You are,’ she insisted, noting their sullen expressions. Then, to Stephen: ‘You’ve lied to Prue and Toby about me and overindulged them. I hope you’re satisfied with what you’ve made them. Prue was happy to leave your mother lying in a wet bed and Toby is as arrogant and chauvinistic as you. I think you three deserve one another.’

  She got up from the table and collected their plates, leaving them speechless. ‘I shall leave the moment things are sorted here,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Meanwhile I’d be grateful for your co-operation.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Charity.’

  Charity turned in surprise at her sister’s voice. She was standing in the doorway, her shoulders slumped miserably. ‘I’ve made things worse for you, haven’t I?’

  ‘I’m not concerned about whether Stephen likes or dislikes me,’ Charity said. ‘I came here for one reason only: the chance to be reunited with you and Toby. But as much as I care for you both, I can’t ignore things that are terribly wrong.’

  Prudence moved closer to Charity, dropping her head on to her shoulder. ‘Are we such a disappointment to you?’ she asked.

  Charity put her arms round her sister and held her tight.

  ‘No of course not,’ she said. ‘But for six years I’ve carried the picture in my head of two small, sweet children. It takes some getting used to finding you’ve grown up, that’s all. I don’t like this feeling that we are s
trangers. We were once so close.’

  ‘We can be like that again,’ Prue murmured.

  Charity tilted Prue’s face up to hers.

  ‘Yes, we can, if we work at it,’ she said, kissing her sister’s nose. ‘It’s been a long, tiring day, and tomorrow will probably be even worse. But if we talk and work together, we’ll find the way back to where we left off.’

  ‘I’m still glad I phoned you,’ Prue said, tears glistening in her eyes.

  ‘Not as glad as I was.’ Charity hugged her tightly. ‘Now help me with the washing up and you can tell me all about school and your friends.’

  The next day the house was buzzing with noise, two vacuum cleaners going at once and voices calling to one another above them. Six women and one man had arrived to do the spring-cleaning and they were systematically working their way through the rooms. Curtains had been taken down and collected by a dry-cleaning company, rugs had been carried outside for a beating in the garden. The whole house smelt of cleaning fluids: bleach, disinfectant, polish and carpet shampoo.

  In the kitchen one woman stood on steps washing down the walls, tutting at the congealed grease while another woman scrubbed out the cupboards.

  ‘I’m afraid the house is in an uproar,’ Charity said as she ushered the nurse sent from the agency into the winter parlour which hadn’t been used for years. She had moved Grandmother into Prue’s room while her own was cleaned, and to Charity’s surprise she found it tidied. Uncle Stephen was skulking in his room, still claiming that all this was unnecessary, but he’d agreed to be taken out into the garden later while his room was tackled.

  ‘I’m Dawn Giles.’ The woman took the offered chair opposite Charity and pulled a sheaf of letters out of her large handbag. ‘These are references from all my old patients. As you will see, I’ve been in private nursing for many years.’

  Charity felt an instant liking for this nurse, though she couldn’t have said why. She was a big woman, with a round, plain face and dull brown hair cut in a severe, unflattering bob to her jaw level. She wore a navy blue dress and jacket, which, like her hair, did her no favours, but there was a kindly look about her and her big arms suggested physical strength.

  ‘I’ll be honest,’ Charity said. ‘My uncle is an amputee and a difficult, bad-tempered man. My grandmother is just old. I can’t stay here and look after them, I have a business of my own in London, and my younger brother and sister haven’t been used to doing a hand’s turn. I’m telling you this now so you aren’t under any illusions about the job. I am advertising for domestic help and I’ll stay here until I get the right people.’

  Charity went on to explain what she believed was needed.

  ‘I haven’t had any contact with my uncle in years until yesterday,’ she admitted. ‘Medically I don’t know what’s required, but he or the district nurse can tell you that. I’ll show you the room I thought would be suitable for you if you decide to come. Then perhaps you can have a chat with the colonel.’

  It was almost half-past eleven when Charity took Nurse Giles in to see Stephen, after introducing her to Grandmother and showing the nurse her room. Around ten minutes later she was surprised to see the woman wheeling Stephen outside in his chair.

  They were gone for over an hour, and when Charity went out later to look for them she was delighted to find them in the walled garden talking earnestly.

  This garden, which had been very neglected, was the one that had been restored in the manner of an Italian garden, with brick paths, pergolas, a couple of stone benches and a small fountain.

  Charity didn’t interrupt. The nurse and her uncle appeared to be getting along very well, so she went back in to prepare some lunch.

  ‘Charity!’ Stephen’s voice boomed out from the hall just as she was laying the table.

  ‘Miss Giles is coming back later today,’ he said once Charity reached him in the hall. ‘Get her room ready.’

  Charity overlooked the curt order, she was so pleased he’d agreed to a nurse.

  ‘She seems nice,’ she said cautiously. ‘Your mother liked her too.’

  ‘Sensible, no-nonsense type,’ he said, wheeling his chair back into the drawing room. ‘Have they finished messing around in my room?’

  ‘Yes, Uncle,’ she said. ‘But lunch is nearly ready. Would you like a cold drink or anything first?’

  He turned his chair back to face her.

  Stephen really did like Nurse Giles, and she had passed on to him how much Charity had done for his mother, but he didn’t like the feeling of losing control in his own house.

  ‘Don’t try to be too clever,’ he said, his eyes almost disappearing into folds of flesh. ‘I’ve got you taped.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Again her hackles rose at his rudeness.

  ‘Trying to worm your way in,’ he snapped. ‘It won’t wash, though. I know what you are.’

  ‘I know what you are too,’ she said coldly. ‘And believe me, I’ve no desire to worm my way anywhere near you.’

  ‘I don’t want you to leave.’ Grandmother’s small wrinkled face looked plaintive. She sat in a button-back chair by the open window in the drawing room, the cup of tea Charity had brought her in her hands.

  ‘I’ll stay till after the weekend,’ Charity replied. ‘But I’m needed at the office and everything’s running smoothly here now.’

  Charity’s week at Studley was an exhausting, exasperating one. Scores of women had turned up in answer to her advertisement, but most of them had been more interested in getting a glimpse of the inside of the house than in working there. But finally Charity had taken on Margaret, a plump, jolly middle-aged woman, as cook, and her cousin Pat to do the cleaning. As both of them were local there was no call for them to live in and already they were getting on well with Nurse Giles and Grandmother.

  But getting staff and having the domestic agency spring-clean the house was the easy part. Acting as a buffer between Stephen and the new help, working out duties and making Toby and Prue see they couldn’t lie around and do nothing for themselves, was the most onerous.

  There had been moments of delight being back with Toby and Prue, but there were many more times when Charity was tempted to just walk away. Toby was easier. Despite his arrogance he could be very charming. He wanted to know about Charity’s life, her friends and work. He tagged along with her, helping her clean silver and turn out cupboards cheerfully, and he was very good at acting as a mediator between her and Stephen.

  Prue was more difficult. She resented being asked to do anything she considered ‘servants’ work’ and her pointed, snobbish remarks made Charity cringe. She had an inflated idea of her own importance, constantly boasting of her marks at school, how much the teachers liked her and how talented she was. In fact she played the piano only passably, with no passion, and her dancing lessons had given her no grace or poise.

  At times, when Charity looked at Toby and Prue, she felt their sexes should be reversed. Prue, had she been a boy, would be ideal material for the role Stephen had in mind for Toby. She had the strength of character to be an officer in the army, the determination and the qualities of leadership. Toby, with his beauty, charm and warmth, would be far more comfortable in a more feminine role. He took interest in all the old family treasures, he liked people more than his sister did and he was far more diplomatic.

  But though Charity had made many observations about her brother and sister, discovered a great deal about their life in the past six years, it was disappointing to find she couldn’t get close to either of them. It was as if a transparent membrane separated them: she could see and hear and touch them, but until she could find a way to break that membrane, they would always be aloof.

  ‘I suspect Nurse Giles is a maneater,’ Grandmother said to Charity. ‘But time will tell, and you’re right, she is making him more pleasant.’

  Charity was tempted to ask the old lady to enlarge on this observation, but out of loyalty to the woman who had the patience to wash and s
et Grandmother’s hair the previous day, she decided against it.

  ‘She’s a good nurse,’ Charity said firmly. ‘You look so much better since she’s been here.’

  Grandmother’s hair was like a fluffy white halo, and her lined face had a pink glow again.

  ‘I feel better.’ She sighed deeply. ‘But Toby worries me,’ she whispered, as if afraid they’d be overheard. ‘He’s very charming, but there’s something not quite right. He’s too sure of himself, too ruthless for such a young man and he’s dishonest.’

  The old lady dropped her eyes. ‘He tells lies as easily as he breathes. I even suspect him of stealing from me. Prue is far from perfect. She’s a snob, selfish and very greedy. But she’s honest and deep down I know she’s a good girl. But Toby!’

  Charity thought this over for a moment. Grandmother clearly loved both children; the tender way she looked at them was enough to prove that. She was one for making sweeping remarks about people, like the one about Nurse Giles being a maneater, but Charity had noticed she was remarkably astute.

  ‘I’ll try and talk to him.’ Charity got up from her seat and bent down to tuck a blanket round her grandmother’s knees. ‘Don’t you worry about the children, you’ve done a good job as their granny and they love you. Now why don’t you have a little snooze before tea?’

  The old lady smiled, reassured. ‘I want to give you something,’ she said.

  Charity stared in surprise as her grandmother pulled out a small blue velvet drawstring bag from the pocket of her dress and tipped a pair of earrings on to her lap.

  They were brilliant blue stones that sparkled in the sunshine. Three stones in all, the largest almost as big as a sixpence, intricately suspended from an old gold clip.

  Even though Charity had no real knowledge of jewellery, it was obvious they were extremely valuable.

  ‘They are sapphires,’ Grandmother said, holding them up to the light. ‘My mother gave them to me when I married. I always intended to give them to Gwen, but circumstances prevented me.’

  ‘I can’t take those!’ Charity gasped.