The Innkeeper's Daughter

by Val Wood

  Bella was a country girl used to vast tracts of snow-covered meadows, but here was a wonderland with yellow light glowing in pools beneath the lamp posts and here and there a matching glimmer from a window of some early riser like herself.

  She saw a sinewy movement as a lanky figure uncurled from a doorway and stretched. There were just the two of them in the whole street and as the youth turned in her direction, without thinking Bella gave an involuntary wave. He looked up with something like eagerness in the lift of his head and began to lope towards her.

  Bella was startled. She was merely sending a greeting to a stranger and she began to back away until he spoke; his voice was husky as he said, ‘Morning, miss. Do you need me for summat?’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  ‘ERM, NO,’ BELLA said. ‘I was just – saying good morning, I suppose. I saw you there and—’

  ‘Oh!’ He seemed disappointed. ‘I thought – mebbe you needed me for an errand.’

  She recognized him then. It was the youth Reuben Jacobs had whistled for to look after the horse and cart when they’d first come to look at the Maritime.

  ‘Why are you out so early?’ she asked.

  ‘I live out,’ he said, and broke out into a paroxysm of coughing. ‘Excuse me,’ he apologized, breathing heavily. ‘It’s my morning cough. I’ll be all right in a minute.’ He coughed again several times, but turning his head away from Bella.

  ‘What do you mean, you live out?’ Bella asked. ‘You mean – out in ’street?’

  He nodded, seeming to be too breathless to speak immediately. ‘In a doorway. I’ve found a really good one, quite deep, and ’shop won’t be open today so I could stop all day.’

  ‘Would you like some breakfast?’ She spoke without thinking. ‘And our fire stays in all night so you could get warm.’

  He was very tall and thin and she thought about thirteen or fourteen years of age; he looked down on her, his expression puzzled and wary. ‘I’ve no money to pay,’ he said, digging his hands in his trouser pockets and pulling out empty tattered linings. ‘I’ve not run any errands for a day or two.’

  They were both covered in snow by now and Bella shivered. ‘I wasn’t expecting you to pay. Come on,’ she said. ‘I’m ready for a cup of tea.’

  ‘Oh, thank you,’ he said in a hoarse, rasping voice. ‘I’ll pay you back somehow, running errands or owt. You can ask Mr Jacobs; he knows I’m honest.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘I remember you, and if Mr Jacobs trusts you, then I will too.’ She led him back down the side passage and into the Maritime, bolting the door behind them. ‘We don’t open on a Sunday.’

  ‘I know. I used to bed down in ’alley afore you moved in, but then some tramps came wi’ their dogs an’ I didn’t like ’em, so I had to move on.’

  So he doesn’t think of himself as a tramp, she thought curiously, and strangely enough he looked quite clean in spite of his old worn jacket and the too-short trousers which showed his bare and bony ankles.

  Sarah was up and in the kitchen stirring something in a pan, although not yet dressed and still in her woollen dressing gown. ‘I thought you’d be out playing in ’snow,’ she began, and then looked up. ‘Hello, who’s this then? A waif ’n’ stray?’

  ‘No, ma’am,’ the boy was quick to answer. ‘Me name’s Adam. Adam Richards. Born ’n’ bred in Hull. Everybody knows me.’

  ‘He’s been sleeping out in ’street, Ma,’ Bella explained. ‘I’ve met him before – he runs errands. Reuben Jacobs knows him.’

  ‘Well, I’ve no silver to lock up,’ Sarah said, ‘so you’d better sit down. Porridge?’ She lifted the pan up.

  ‘Please!’ Adam licked his lips.

  Sarah poured the gruel into three bowls and sat down opposite him, then pushed a bowl of sugar towards him. ‘So how come if everybody knows you, nobody else has invited you for breakfast?’

  He lifted the spoon to his mouth, but then put it down again to answer her. ‘Too early, probably, and then there’s not many folk about at this time on a Sunday, not till it’s time for ’church service.’

  Sarah gave a grunt but didn’t speak again until he’d eaten some of the porridge. Then she said, ‘And I suppose if everybody knows you, they don’t think o’ feeding you, because they think somebody else is doing it.’

  ‘Yeh,’ he said. ‘I think that’s probably right. An’ I don’t beg, you see. I try to work for my living. I think Mr Jacobs tries to find errands for me to run; he knows I’ve got my pride.’

  ‘Hard to have pride if you’re starving,’ Sarah muttered. ‘Has nowt changed in this town?’

  ‘There are soup kitchens,’ he said. ‘I don’t think I’d survive without them. I’m very grateful for that.’

  Alice came downstairs next, holding the hand of a sleepy Henry and apologizing for being late. She was usually up first to stoke the fire. She gazed at Adam, who was now on his second bowl of porridge.

  ‘This is Adam Richards, Alice,’ Sarah said. ‘He’s going to fill ’coal hods up every night to save you doing ’em, aren’t you, Adam?’

  A slow grin spread from ear to ear. ‘I am,’ he said, and there was a little catch in his voice.

  Bella smiled. Her mother, though she was strict, had a soft heart and Bella had known she wouldn’t turn him away. She was put in mind of Alice’s brother Seth, who also had been keen to work and earn his living, and Sarah had helped him and their mother too.

  Henry put his head on his mother’s lap. ‘Adam means ’first; that’s what Miss Hudson says. My bone aches,’ he added.

  ‘Do you mean your bones?’ Bella said; she put her hand out for him to come to her.

  ‘No,’ he moaned, and came to sit on her knee. ‘Just one bone.’ He patted his hip bone. ‘This one.’

  Adam left after breakfast. He seemed anxious that he shouldn’t overstay his welcome and said he’d be back again before nightfall to fill up the coal hods. Bella took Henry outside in the still quiet street and they threw snowballs at each other. It seemed odd to Bella that they had no garden to build a snowman in as they used to when they were at the Woodman.

  Alice was helping Sarah prepare the vegetables for Sunday dinner when they came back in, and Bella asked Alice if she would like to write to her mother. ‘I don’t mind helping you if you’d like to.’

  ‘Not yet,’ Alice said. ‘I’d rather wait until I know I can visit. Joe said he’d tek me. He will, won’t he?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure he will. Just as soon as we’re out of winter. Mebbe one Sunday in spring?’

  Alice smiled. ‘That’d be lovely. Do you know, that lad Adam, he puts me in mind of our Seth.’

  ‘Yes, that’s just what I was thinking,’ Bella agreed. ‘You’ll be glad to see Seth again.’

  ‘I will. But come on, Bella. Let’s put your hair in rags again. You’ve ruined ’curl wi’ going out in ’snow. What will your gentleman think?’

  ‘It’s still snowing,’ Bella told her. ‘And I’m more bothered about my new outfit and boots getting wet than I am about my hair; and excuse me,’ she added pertly, ‘he’s not my gentleman, if you don’t mind.’

  Alice giggled. ‘What is he then?’

  ‘He’s a – he’s a business associate,’ Bella said primly. ‘That’s what he is.’

  But nevertheless she submitted to Alice, who tied her hair up in rags until Joe said she looked like a mophead. After the beef was cooked and they’d eaten heartily, with Joe and Sarah dozing and Henry drawing at the table, she went upstairs with Alice and began dressing for her afternoon-tea engagement with Mr Allen.

  ‘I’m full up from dinner,’ she said. ‘I won’t be able to eat anything.’

  Alice took the red gown from its hanger. ‘I expect that proper ladies don’t eat much anyway, so you’ll mek a good impression. Oh, this is so lovely, Bella. Colour suits you so; Mr Allen will fall instantly in love wi’ you.’

  ‘I hope not,’ Bella protested. ‘Or it will mean he’s falling in love with
my clothes and not me.’

  ‘Oh, you know what I mean,’ Alice said, standing on tiptoe to put the gown over Bella’s head.

  ‘No, I don’t.’ Bella’s voice was muffled beneath the wool. ‘And this petticoat is very scratchy. Are you sure I should have it next to my skin?’

  ‘How would I know?’ Alice said. ‘I’ve never owned such a thing in my life.’

  ‘Nor me.’ Bella emerged from beneath the red gown. ‘But I’m going to wear my old petticoat under it or I shan’t be able to sit still for a minute and Mr Allen will think I’ve got Saint Vitus’s dance.’

  On the dot of half past three, Joe let Mr Allen in through the front door into the saloon. ‘My sister won’t be a minute,’ he said. ‘Tek a seat, won’t you?’

  ‘Thank you, I’d rather stand,’ Allen said. ‘We’re not going far and it’s stopped snowing, but do you think Miss Thorp would prefer a cab? I can send somebody to fetch one.’

  Joe pretended to look puzzled. ‘A cab? I thought you were onny going as far as ’Station Hotel.’

  ‘We are,’ Allen said. ‘But the snow is quite thick and ladies don’t always like to walk in it, do they?’

  ‘Oh, our Bella’s not like that. She’s a country lass, isn’t she? She’s already been out this morning building a snowman.’ Which wasn’t quite true, but she had been playing snowballs with Henry.

  ‘Really!’ Mr Allen said. ‘How very extraordinary.’

  ‘She’s an extraordinary girl is our Bella.’

  Mr Allen nodded. ‘I’m sure she is.’

  Bella came through then and Mr Allen gazed at her admiringly. ‘I was just asking your brother if he thought you’d prefer a cab to take us to the hotel. But he said not.’

  ‘But it’s lovely,’ Bella said. ‘The snow is still quite crisp.’ She wasn’t going to admit to him the concerns she had voiced to Alice about ruining her boots.

  He smiled. ‘I heard that you’ve been building a snowman.’

  Bella turned to look at Joe who raised a whimsical eyebrow. ‘I played snowballs with my little brother,’ she bantered. ‘My big brother was a spoilsport and didn’t want to play.’

  ‘Don’t she look a treat though, Mr Allen?’ Joe butted in. ‘As handsome a young lady as you’d see anywhere.’

  Bella smiled sweetly and vitriolically at Joe, who laughed, but Mr Allen earnestly agreed that she did.

  He offered his arm as they walked down Paragon Street towards the Station Hotel, and as they prepared to cross the road to the entrance she saw Adam standing in a shop doorway, facing the hotel. He touched his cap when he saw Bella looking his way, and murmured, ‘Good day, miss, good day, sir.’

  Bella smiled and returned his greeting, but Justin Allen ignored him completely. ‘I don’t encourage them,’ he said. ‘The beggars; they’re forever following you if you do. Can’t get rid of them.’

  ‘Oh, but he’s not—’ She didn’t get the chance to finish what she was about to say as Justin Allen ushered her quickly across the road and towards the hotel.

  She glanced over her shoulder as they entered the portico and saw that Adam hadn’t moved from the doorway. He raised his hand and touched his forehead and she gave a little nod. He hadn’t indicated in any way that he had met her before and she found that both endearing and respectful.

  As they walked through the entrance hall and into the hotel Bella did her best not to gasp or feel overawed. In front of her was a magnificent square court with elegant pillars and arches. She lifted her eyes to the ceiling and saw a glass roof and sparkling chandeliers.

  ‘How lovely,’ she murmured. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’

  ‘Rather splendid, isn’t it?’ Justin Allen bent to whisper. ‘I thought you’d like it.’

  At the far side of the court near some potted palms a pianist was playing a melody on a pianoforte, accompanied by a violinist and a cellist.

  Bella felt herself melting with delight. How absolutely wonderful, she thought, such richness, and yet outside there’s a boy who’s spent the night sleeping in a doorway.

  They were invited to sit at one of the small tables, which Mr Allen had reserved, and Bella was pleased that she had bought a new outfit as there were ladies sitting at other tables dressed in silks and furs and with feather-trimmed hats, and she guessed that they would have come by horse cab and not walked, as their feet were encased in fine leather boots, quite unsuitable for snowy conditions.

  She felt their eyes upon her; they were mostly much older than her and she had no doubt that they were wondering who she was. They’re not likely to find out, she thought. I don’t move in their circles, and neither, I suspect, does Mr Allen.

  He ordered tea and petits fours for Bella as she said she didn’t want anything more than just a little cake, and he asked for a dish of potted shrimps for himself with thin bread and butter. As they were waiting for their order he told her about the hotel and that it had over three hundred rooms, and she wondered why he had asked her here.

  Then, as they ate and drank their tea, he suddenly said, ‘So what do you think, Miss Thorp?’

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘About the cake?’

  ‘No.’ He smiled indulgently. ‘About the hotel!’

  ‘As I said, I think it’s wonderful. I’m not yet familiar with Hull. Is this ’biggest hotel in town?’

  ‘It is, and that’s why I wanted you to see it and form an impression; who knows but that the Maritime might become an hotel one day. Obviously it is nowhere near as large as this one, but start small and who knows what it might lead to.’

  Bella was astonished. What was he trying to say? The Maritime was only just up and running and he was talking about turning it into an hotel? But something had been on her mind for the past few weeks, although she wasn’t sure if she wanted to discuss it with Mr Allen yet. She must speak to her mother and Joe first.

  ‘You see,’ he continued, ‘I feel that the town needs more accommodation. New roads and streets are being built all the time and more and more visitors are coming to the town, by railway and ferry, and although there’s the Cross Keys Hotel, which was once a fine establishment, it is very old, and the others which call themselves hotels are really public houses and don’t have accommodation for visitors.’

  ‘So,’ she said hesitantly, ‘are you saying that ’Maritime could be turned into a small but – select hotel?’

  ‘Yes, Miss Thorp.’ He reached over and gently pressed her hand. ‘That is exactly what I am saying.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  BELLA TOOK A walk round Hull early the following morning and concluded that Mr Allen was probably right. There were many hostelries and inns and public houses in the centre of the town, and from the outside she concluded that most of them probably had only one room available for overnight visitors. She had walked down the narrow High Street and looked at the ancient King’s Head and the George, both considered at one time to be the principal inns of the town, and from there went along Market Place and looked at the sizeable Cross Keys Hotel, which was in a prominent position opposite the golden equestrian statue of King Billy, William III, which stood in the middle of the road.

  Market Place was thronging with people: women with shopping baskets over their arms, well-dressed gentlewomen in furs lifting their hems so as not to muddy them on the wet and slushy pavement, and their maids behind them carrying their parcels; businessmen in tall hats, youths pushing hand carts or with sacks hoisted over their shoulders; and broughams and traps and delivery waggons trundling along the busy road and adding to the general melee of a working day. Outside the Cross Keys a carriage and four horses drew up and a porter in an apron down to his ankles rushed out to help the passengers down and usher them into the hotel entrance.

  Bella watched for a while, pondering and analysing and coming to the conclusion that this street was probably the best and most convenient place to have an hotel. There was easy access for traffic where carriages could park, whereas the Maritime was on a
much narrower side street. But on the other hand, she reasoned, we are much nearer to ’railway station and people could walk to us from there, for not everybody can afford to stay at ’Station Hotel.

  She walked slowly back, cutting down the side of Holy Trinity Church, through Trinity House Lane and along the shopping street of Whitefriargate and there discovering yet another inn, the White Hart, tucked between other buildings.

  So many, she mused. It seemed that the people of Hull liked their ale, which confirmed what she had heard from the customers who had come into the Maritime, that the Hull ale was amongst the best beverages in the country. That reminded her that she must get back as it would soon be opening time.

  ‘Come on,’ Joe said when she came in. ‘Where’ve you been?’

  ‘Looking at ’opposition,’ she said, slipping off her coat and putting on her apron. ‘We’re ready, aren’t we?’

  ‘Yeh, but we need some brandy bringing up so I’ve waited for you.’

  ‘Oh, Joe!’ she protested. ‘I trust you. You can surely go into ’cellar alone. You haven’t had a single drink.’

  Joe shook his head. ‘I don’t trust meself, that’s ’top and ’bottom of it.’

  Bella considered for a moment and then said, ‘What if – well, if I’m not here and you need a couple of bottles of gin or brandy or something, you could ask Alice to go down with you.’

  ‘Yeh!’ he said scornfully, ‘And she’d think I was scared o’ mice or ’dark or summat. I’m not going to tell her I’m a drunk, am I, not after what she said about her da?’

  ‘She’d understand.’

  ‘Mebbe she would, but I’m still not going to tell her!’

  Mm, she considered. Is that because you’re becoming fond of her and want to create a good impression? She gave a little sigh. He thinks she won’t look at him if she knows he can’t keep off ’drink, whereas I think that Alice is ’right sort of person to influence him.