Avon Street

by Paul Emanuelli

  ‘Some of the money should go to help Imelda Hunt and her family,’ James said. ‘Write to my brother, Sean,’ James said. ‘There must be vacant tenancies on the estate. Imelda Hunt’s sister can go there with her family and take in Hunt’s children. We can use some of the money to pay their rent and make sure that they have enough to live on.’

  Sean nodded his agreement. ‘It was already in my thoughts to do so.’

  ‘If they should ask where the money comes from, Sean,’ John interrupted, ‘could you tell them it comes from Isabella, a Spanish lady.’

  Charlie nodded. ‘Aye, John, that’s fitting. Let it come from Isabella, not us.’

  ‘Of course,’ Sean agreed, as he fished in his pocket and produced some papers. ‘I have received a letter from your brother, James. The news is good. He thinks the blight has passed on the estate and in many other parts of the country. ‘Here,’ he said, handing James the letter.

  James began reading. ‘Michael thanks me for the money I sent. He has invested in the land, with new drainage systems and new machinery. The signs, he says, are very promising for the year to come and he has invited me to visit and see what has been accomplished.’

  ‘Will you go?’ Sean asked.

  ‘I will,’ James replied. ‘If you are all in agreement I want Sean to have the money we took from Caine,’ James said.

  ‘That’s what we agreed,’ John said.

  ‘I thank all you gentlemen,’ Sean said. ‘In all this you have bettered the lives of a great number of people. There are more signs of hope now in Avon Street than I have seen before, and now that Caine has been driven from the city, it will feed that hope more.’ He stopped for a moment, turning to Charlie, ‘and not just Catholics, nor only Irishmen.’

  Charlie smiled. ‘What about the silver?’ he asked. ‘I’ll need to sell it.’

  ‘We should repay the silversmiths we robbed,’ James said, ‘and the rest we share amongst us, if you are all in agreement.’

  Charlie coughed loudly. ‘Take a little over and above for yourself,’ John said, smiling, ‘to pay for our board and lodgings.

  ‘Do you think me as tight as I’d charge my guests?’ Charlie asked. ‘I’ll get the money back to the silversmiths, if it will ease your consciences, though it goes against the grain. The rest we share equally for all those involved.’

  ‘I will need to set up a properly administered charity with all of the money you gentlemen have donated,’ Sean said. ‘Will you serve on its board, James?’

  ‘Of course, together with Charlie and John,’ James said.

  ‘Not I,’ Charlie replied, ‘I’m not one for paperwork and giving money away. Besides I intend to fill my life in a different way.’

  ‘Nor me,’ John said. ‘I’ll be moving on soon.’

  ‘But why?’ James asked.

  ‘I have some money now, and I’d like to set up somewhere in business, but I don’t think it can be here.’

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  When James awoke, early the following morning, he made straight for John’s room. The room was empty; the bed made and at its foot, neatly folded, was the manservant’s uniform Mrs Hawker had altered for him when he had first entered the household, the one he wore when they had cheated the silversmiths in Clifton. Pinned to the front of the jacket was a piece of paper, on which was written simply, ‘Thank you’.

  James opened the chest of drawers and found it largely empty; John’s few clothes and possessions had gone, along with the canvas bag he had been carrying when he had first met him in that alleyway in Avon Street. As he was closing the drawers, he heard a loud cough and jumped as he became aware of the dark shape in the doorway behind him. He turned and saw John. ‘Stealthy as ever, John,’ he said. ‘I thought you had gone without saying goodbye.’

  ‘Maybe I would have at one time,’ John replied, ‘but not now. I was waiting for you before setting off.’

  ‘Why do you have to go?’ James asked.

  ‘It’s for the best,’ John replied. ‘I have a chance at a new life and I have to come to terms with the ghosts of Bath in another place.’

  James shook his offered hand. ‘Will you take breakfast with me one last time?’ he asked.

  ‘With great pleasure,’ John replied.

  ‘I would offer to walk down to the station with you when we’ve eaten, but I must see Belle, and as soon as possible.’

  ‘It’s best I say my goodbyes here,’ John said. ‘Besides I’d like a little time with Charlie and Mrs Hawker. We’ll have breakfast and then you find Belle. Follow your heart, James. If I had followed mine sooner, Isabella might still be alive and we would be together.’

  As they walked down the stairs together, one thought filled James’ mind. He almost spoke it, but then thinking of the hurt it would cause, stilled his voice. If John had saved Isabella, then he would not have been there that night in The Pig and Whistle; would never have come to his rescue or helped in the fight against Caine. Would he even have survived without John, he wondered? Yet living was full of ‘ifs’, and each choice bore the potential of another possible life. If as a young boy he had looked the other way when Sean was being bullied, if he had remained in Ireland, if Thomas Hunt had never borrowed from Caine, never killed himself and his daughter, if he had never met Harcourt, nor defended Charlie in court, if Richard had not given him the swordstick, if he had run from the fight with Caine. It was like a dam bursting in his brain; a flood of events and happenings, choices and decisions each leading it seemed to some different destiny. Yet it wasn’t destiny; nothing was preordained, the choices were all there to be freely made. Inheritance and upbringing might make us who we are, but it is the decisions we make that determine who we become.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  More than anything now, Belle wanted to be away from Bath. She felt confused, she had heard nothing from James since the robbery; did not even know whether he was alive or dead. It was best she was away from here, yet she wanted to hear he was safe.

  Deciding to occupy her last day in the city with setting Jenny up in the shop, she felt pleased, knowing that she would now have a reason to return to Bath whenever she wanted. Mrs Macready had been very understanding when she had handed in her notice. The company’s season was coming to an end and she already knew she was moving to the Haymarket, yet she could still have been difficult. Instead she had offered only encouragement when Belle asked to leave early, telling her what a wonderful theatre the Haymarket was, and how much she would learn from Macready.

  When Belle had told her about her venture into the dressmaking business with Jenny, Mrs Macready had raised an eyebrow as though momentarily taken aback by the announcement, but if she was shocked she did little else to show it. If she wondered how the two of them had acquired enough money to invest, she did not give voice to her thoughts. She promised instead her custom and said that if their work was of sufficient quality and was offered at a suitable discount there may be work available from the costume department. Belle assured her of the finest quality of work, extolling Jenny’s capabilities, and said they would of course give a discount if the work was of sufficient quantity.

  When she told Jenny about the potential business from the theatre she was delighted. ‘I might be tempted to watch a play if it were my costumes on stage,’ Jenny said, but it was obvious she had other things on her mind. From early that morning they had been interviewing women for the post of manageress at the shop. At first it had been Belle who asked all the questions, but gradually Jenny had found her voice. By the time they interviewed the last woman it was Jenny asking most of the questions. And it was Jenny who made the appointment, pleased that they were in fact poaching the woman from one of the finest dress shops in Milsom Street. She was a little taken aback at the salary the woman requested, but met her request in full.

  Belle left her that afternoon working in the shop with their new appointment, discussing the shop fittings and meeting with carpenters. Any uncertainty in Jenny had long since disappeared
and she was already every inch the businesswoman, as she re-interviewed the new appointee on what customers she might be able to tempt from her previous employer. The lack of confidence was forgotten and no observer of the discussion would have been in any doubt as to who was employer, and who employee.

  Belle was glad to leave them to it, but when she returned home her nervousness returned. The feeling of loneliness at leaving Bath hit home. It was the end of one life and the beginning of another. She tried to conjure up the excitement and magic she had felt at the prospect of working in the Haymarket Theatre, but it would not come. The thought of a new job, new friends, a new home no longer thrilled her when she thought of what she was leaving. It was as though a part of her was dying. She was leaving behind those she loved, and life in Bath would continue without her.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  John took the breakfast things down to the kitchen. Mrs Hawker and Charlie were as usual ensconced in chairs side by side in front of the kitchen range. Charlie was holding Mrs Hawker’s hand and showed no sign of loosening his grip when John entered the room.

  ‘I’ll be off soon,’ John said.

  ‘Shall we walk you to the station?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘James has already offered, but I’d rather say my goodbyes here.’

  ‘Where is James?’ Mrs Hawker asked.

  ‘In pursuit of love,’ John replied, grinning. ‘Just like the two of you.’ Mrs Hawker began fussing around the kitchen, her face flushed. ‘James can look after himself you know, Mrs Hawker. Isn’t it time you let him go and found some happiness of your own?’

  ‘I keep telling her that,’ Charlie replied.

  ‘Listen to him,’ John said. ‘I’ve never met a couple more suited than you two. You’ve been like a mother and father to me.’ Mrs Hawker walked over to him, pinched his arm, and then threw her arms around him.

  ‘What about the money you have coming?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘I’ve written out an address in Boston where you can find me,’ John replied.

  ‘You’ve helped us through difficult times, John, and for that I’ll always be grateful,’ Mrs Hawker said.

  ‘And you trusted me and welcomed me into your home when you had no reason to do so,’ John replied. ‘It’s you two that gave me the courage to write to my family. I’ve decided to go back to Boston and visit them, and now I have the money to travel in style rather than work my passage.’

  ‘Will you come back?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘Of course,’ John replied. ‘My closest friends are all in Bath. How could I stay away? It may have been chance that brought us together, but I’ll not see it part us again.’

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  When James knocked on the door of Belle’s house, he heard her footsteps running in answer. Throwing open the door, she did not give him time to speak, ‘So you are come at last!’ she said. She turned her back to him and walked quickly up the stairs, saying nothing. He followed her, sensing from her demeanour that she was annoyed.

  ‘What has upset you so, Belle?’ he asked as she led him into the room.

  ‘You, it is you that has upset me!’ Belle retorted. The anger was all too clear in her voice. She sat on the bed and he on the chair facing her. ‘I hear nothing from you, I have no knowledge of whether you are alive or dead and then you appear as though nothing had happened. You did not even have the good grace to send a note to tell me how you were.’

  ‘This is my fourth visit this morning,’ he said. ‘I have walked round and about the city so many times I have lost count, and each time I called you were out.’ She said nothing. He felt uncertain in his words. When he had rehearsed their meeting in his mind it had been so very different. ‘I am sorry. I should have been more considerate, but I did not wish to see you in any danger. I needed to be sure it was over.’

  ‘But I have been at risk for weeks and I was alone.’

  ‘No, you were never alone. You were watched constantly by our friends in Avon Street. If they had suspected any immediate danger to you, we would have plucked you from the theatre and taken you to a safe place.’

  ‘I felt you had used me to suit your purpose,’ Belle replied, ‘and having served my purpose I was of little importance to you.’

  He leant forward, taking her hand in his and she did not resist. ‘You helped so much and asked so little in return, but I could never use you.’ He stopped, searching for words that did not come easily. ‘I was foolish to accept your help and put you in danger.’

  ‘I gave my help freely,’ she said. ‘Because I wanted to – Because I was concerned for you. I did nothing that I did not choose to do of my own free will.’

  ‘You will have a share from the robbery,’ James said. ‘Most of what we took will go to Father Brennan to help in his work in Avon Street, but there will be something for you.’

  ‘Do you think I did what I did for money?’

  He sensed her anger rising again as she snatched her hand from his grasp. She stood and walked over to the window.

  James followed her to the window. ‘Nothing could be further from the truth,’ he said. ‘Are you so unaware of how highly I regard you?’

  ‘And what feelings do you have for me, Mr Daunton?’ Belle asked. She kept her back to him for a moment and he could not see her face.

  When she turned she seemed less certain in her rage, but he thought he saw tears against the redness of her cheeks. He wondered if it was embarrassment, or simply anger. He paused before replying, searching for the right words. ‘I feel as though I have known you all my life and yet you are a mystery to me. I want you never to be hurt, never to feel pain, and yet I know I have already hurt you.’ He placed his hands on her shoulders and stared into her eyes. ‘I need you.’

  She pulled away, as though unable to look into his eyes. ‘I could have wished that you would have said something of such feelings before,’ she said. ‘I leave Bath this afternoon for London.’

  ‘But do you care for me?’ James asked.

  ‘Of course I care for you,’ she said, turning back, staring this time directly into his eyes. ‘Were you so blind that you could not see how I felt? After Harcourt I thought I could never trust a man again, but I found myself trusting more in you than I have ever trusted before. Now I am confused. I do not want to lose that trust, and yet I do not feel ready to put it to the test.’

  James hated the sound of Harcourt’s name; the thought of him being with Belle. He could see the pain of betrayal now in her eyes and understood her confusion and uncertainty. He took her in his arms and kissed her gently. It was not how he wanted to kiss her, but a tentative, searching kiss. He felt her soft complicity, unresisting in his embrace and cradled the nape of her neck softly in his hand, drinking in the scent of her being. The kiss seemed to last so long and yet was over almost as soon as it had begun and she rested her head on his shoulder and he felt her tears on his neck. ‘You should stay,’ he said, as though the words were more important than the kiss.

  Belle broke away, ‘I have to go,’ she said, ‘I have to pack and say my goodbyes. You should not ask this of me so suddenly. I have commitments and a profession I love.’

  ‘So you will still leave, knowing how I feel about you?’ James said, only half questioning.

  ‘You say it as though it was a decision lightly made,’ Belle replied. ‘Do you not understand the pain that leaving gives me? If I was to stay I know I would be happy; that you would make me happy. But in years to come the decision would haunt me and would come between us. I have to go.’

  ‘Then will you allow me to visit you in London?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘But more than allow. I would expect it.’

  ‘Even if you are a famous actress and courted by the whole of society?’

  ‘Even then,’ she smiled. ‘But it is better we part now, before I change my mind.’

  ‘And will you return?’ James asked.

  ‘You have my promise,’ Belle said. She smiled. ‘Besides, I have a busi
ness in Bath that will require my attention.’ She took the card, already written, from her purse and gave it to him. ‘Perhaps you will call occasionally on my partner, Jenny, and give her any assistance she might need.’

  ‘Nothing would give me greater pleasure,’ he smiled.

  She led him to the door. ‘Be patient with me,’ she said. It was as though they both understood that nothing more could be said. He wanted to stay longer yet he knew this was not the time. On the front doorstep he turned to her. ‘I saw your performance as Lady Macbeth and you were truly magnificent.’

  ‘But you were in hiding,’ she interrupted.

  ‘The others did not know, but I stole out one night and watched you. You taught me well how to disguise myself, and I mingled with the crowd in the stalls, but I saw you clearly; heard every word. You were magnificent.’

  They kissed again in the shadow of the doorway, softly and warmly, and he turned to leave. Then he reached behind his neck and unfastened the silver chain. ‘Will you wear this?’ he said, reaching forward, placing and fastening it around her neck. ‘It was my mother’s and means more to me than all we took from Nat Caine.’

  ‘I will be wearing it,’ Belle said, smiling, ‘when you see me next.’ Then her face became serious, her expression intense. ‘I am not deserting you, James.’ The words were slow and measured and then she laughed. ‘I understand there is an exceptionally efficient rail service between here and London. I hope you will take advantage of it soon.’

  Chapter 41

  As soon as they had packed their belongings, James returned to his house in South Parade with Mrs Hawker. On his arrival he found a fernery on the cupboard in the drawing room, the exotic plants creating their own small jungle world under the protection of its large glass dome. At its side was a small card which read, ‘Welcome home. Please visit soon,’ and it was signed, ‘Charlotte,’ not ‘Richard and Charlotte’ or ‘Mrs Wetherby’, but simply ‘Charlotte.’ One glance at the gently looping strokes had been enough, it hadn’t really required a signature; he could have picked out Charlotte’s handwriting amongst a thousand forgeries.