When the Clouds Go Rolling By

by June Francis

  ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, Mrs Black. I hope you don’t mind my coming.’

  ‘My dear, I was glad you wrote to me and I’m pleased to see you here in my home.’ She smiled warmly. ‘I lost touch with Gertie’s family a long time ago and was so glad to see you and your grandmother at the hall in Liverpool. She has changed out of all recognition, but you are so like Gertie and her son Sebastian that I guessed you were related to them almost immediately.’

  ‘So there was nothing supernatural about what happened?’ said Clara, slightly disappointed.

  Eudora gave her a penetrating stare. ‘It depends on what you mean by supernatural. It’s quite natural for me to talk to those who are no longer with us in the flesh. I did speak to Dennis. Of course, he was only a little boy when I knew him so our conversation was not what you might think.’

  Clara was slightly unnerved by Mrs Black’s mention of speaking to the dead as something that was quite natural. ‘I didn’t really come about Dad. It’s Gran wanting to get in touch with Aunt Gertie.’

  ‘I know. You mentioned it. But first things first. Perhaps we should go along to my healing room.’ Eudora’s smile was gentle. ‘I think there are things you need to get off your chest. I remember your grandmother wasn’t the easiest person to get along with.’

  ‘She drinks and often flies off the handle. I work hard and sometimes I could do with a bit of peace.’ She stopped abruptly, realising she had told Mrs Black more than she had intended.

  ‘What about Gertie’s sisters? Can’t they help you?’

  Clara saw no harm in telling her the truth about them. ‘All dead. Gran’s outlived all her children except for Gertie, who managed to escape their fate. Sometimes I think she’ll outlive me,’ she added wryly.

  ‘And what of your own mother? What was she like?’

  The question surprised Clara. ‘Strict but fair and a hard worker. She was from Scotland.’

  Eudora stiffened. ‘Scotland, you say?’

  ‘Yes. The west coast. Her father worked in a shipyard.’

  ‘Was it Greenock?’

  ‘Probably. I know it began with a G.’

  ‘Where did your parents meet?’

  ‘The Isle of Man during Scots Week.’

  ‘Interesting.’ Eudora looked extremely thoughtful. ‘Was your mother religious at all?’

  ‘Not really,’ said Clara, surprised by the question. ‘She told me that she was brought up Presbyterian but changed to Catholicism to marry Dad. She never went to church but even so, she acted more like a Christian than some that do.’

  ‘Well, well, this is fascinating.’ Eudora’s dark eyes gleamed. ‘But do let’s go to my healing room.’

  ‘What is this healing room?’ asked Clara cautiously.

  Eudora smiled. ‘Come with me and you’ll find out.’

  Clara hesitated. ‘Honestly, I only came to find out more about Auntie Gertie and my cousin Sebastian.’

  Eudora smiled. ‘We will come to them, don’t you worry. Although, no doubt Joy can tell you more about Sebastian’s family than I can. Now come this way.’

  Chapter Five

  ‘You don’t hear of many Sebastians,’ said Clara, following Mrs Black out of the room.

  ‘No. I believe the saint was a Roman soldier who helped Christians during the persecution of the Emperor Diocletian. He was shot with arrows but survived, only to be beaten to death. Also, there is a character in one of Shakespeare’s plays. No doubt Gertie named him after that Sebastian. One could never call her saintly,’ she said waspishly.

  It was on the tip of Clara’s tongue to ask whether Mrs Black had fallen out with Gertie but decided it was wiser not to. Instead, she said, ‘You know a lot, don’t you?’

  Eudora glanced over her shoulder. ‘You find that odd, knowing that I came from a poor background the same as your aunt? Dear Clara, I think of life being like a game of snakes and ladders. You can climb to the heights or slide back into the gutter, depending on luck and the way you play the game.’ She opened a door and held out a smooth white hand. ‘Come, you will not regret taking this step.’

  The moment Clara entered the healing room, her eyes fixed on a fresco painted on the wall opposite the door. She thought the landscape looked foreign and could imagine walking along the narrow street between the whitewashed walls. She found pleasure in their unfamiliarity.

  ‘Do rest on the chaise longue while I put a record on the gramophone,’ said Eudora. ‘You do like music?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Clara sat on the seat Mrs Black indicated and watched her take a record from a cabinet and place it on the turntable at the top. She inserted a needle in the head and, gripping the handle at the side of the cabinet, began to turn it. The turntable began to spin faster and faster. Clara watched fascinated, having seen pictures in newspapers of such cabinets, the price of which were far beyond her means. She wondered why Mrs Black wanted to play music as she, herself, was far more interested in knowing more about Gertie and what she had done that was far from saintly.

  A few minutes later, Clara found the question irrelevant as Mrs Black stared into her eyes and said, ‘Relax, dear.’

  She did relax, so much so that she stretched herself out on the chaise longue and let the music wash over her. The sensation was like nothing she had felt before. It was as if her body floated.

  ‘So tell me, what do you fear?’ asked Eudora, gathering ingredients together. She placed them in a mortar and, picking up a pestle, began to pound common herbs from her garden with some dried ingredients brought from the Orient, which she had visited before the war.

  ‘Catching the flu and dying before Gran, although that would mean I wouldn’t have to worry about getting a job earning enough money to keep us both. She thinks I’ll never get a husband but I did rather fancy Mr Kirk.’

  ‘Did you indeed? A handsome, thoughtful but sceptical young man,’ she smiled to herself and changed the subject. ‘I have heard that the new strain of that scourge started in Spain and is really spreading… Something to do with birds, I believe. It’s very worrying. Although, dear, I don’t think you need to worry about dying just yet if you’re sensible. As for your grandmother, I’m surprised she’s lasted this long. She must have a heart like a horse.’

  ‘Mam used to say Gran was still here because she thought only of herself. They’d get really angry with each other and argue. Of course, she wouldn’t have her living with us and would go mad if she knew Gran had moved in with us. She always said that with Gran in the house there would never be any peace. I know what she meant.’

  ‘I can understand how she felt,’ said Mrs Black. ‘Gertie has a temper and anger has such power to destroy.’ She changed the subject again. ‘Can you tell me something of your mother’s upbringing?’

  ‘Not much. She seldom talked about her family in Scotland but I occasionally overheard her talking to Dad. She mentioned this old woman who attended the same kirk as their family. Apparently she was to blame for Mam’s father casting her off for marrying a furriner, who was a Catholic. She was terrible to her own son, I believe. He disappeared after his wife died, taking his toddler son with him. She said that the woman was an interfering bigot and cruel but had once been a close friend of her dead mother.’

  ‘Thank you, dear. That says something to me,’ said Eudora, her eyes bright. ‘I knew that if I delved deeper we would find out more about your mother’s background than you thought you knew. Do you believe in fate?’ She finished her pounding and, as the music had wound down, left the table and went over to replace the previous record with one by Mozart before winding up the turntable again. The music was low, not intrusive.

  She returned to the table and reached for a jar of honey and spooned some into the mixture and then added some almond milk. She whipped the ingredients together. ‘You haven’t answered me,’ she said softly.

  ‘I don’t really think about it,’ responded Clara, almost apologetically.

  ‘Do you believe some things a
re meant?’

  ‘Mam always believed that she was meant to meet Dad.’

  Eudora smiled. ‘There you are then. I certainly believe we were meant to meet. I tell you now, do not fret yourself worrying that Mrs O’Toole will outlive you. I’m certain she won’t.’

  Clara sighed. ‘That’s a relief. I was hoping Aunt Gertie might help look after her but if she’s no saint, I can’t see it happening. I’d still like to meet her and Sebastian and his family, though.’

  Eudora placed the concoction into a sterilised jar and screwed on the top. ‘It is true that families can be a support but they can also cause one a lot of grief. Are you prepared for that if you become acquainted with Gertie and her family? You’re obviously a caring person, Clara O’Toole, and could end up having to cope with more troubles than you realise right now.’

  Clara was silent.

  ‘Do you hear me, Clara?’

  ‘Yes. I’m wondering if you can see into the future.’

  Eudora laughed. ‘No, dear. But if one uses one’s common sense and takes all the facts about a situation into consideration, then one has a fair idea what the future might hold. Your cousin, Sebastian, having fought in this terrible war, has not returned unscathed. There are also people who are attached to him by friendship and marriage. Young Mr Kirk, for instance. You could find yourself becoming involved in the troubles of his family, too.’

  Clara considered Mrs Black’s words and decided that if she had coped with her parents’ deaths, as well as handling her gran, then she should have no difficulties with her yet-to-be-met relatives. ‘If they need my help, I’d do my best to give it,’ she said sincerely.

  ‘So be it,’ said Eudora. ‘I thought I’d best prepare you.’ She clicked her fingers and her expression was thoughtful as she removed the record from the turntable and put it away. ‘Eve made up some lotion for your skin. It should help your complexion. I also have a mixture that might deal with the problem of your grandmother.’

  Clara blinked and yawned. ‘What kind of mixture? She’s been dosing herself with Black Magic cough mixture but I stopped buying it because it didn’t appear to be doing her any good.’

  ‘Mmm. A popular remedy, made up of morphine, treacle and water, if I’m not mistaken.’ Eudora went over to a cupboard painted eggshell blue, as was all the wooden furniture in the room. She took out a bottle and brought it over to Clara.

  She sat up. ‘What is it?’

  Eudora smiled. ‘It’s freshly made. You make certain Mrs O’Toole has a spoonful twice daily, it’ll do wonders for both of you.’

  Clara slowly reached for the bottle. ‘What’s in it?’

  ‘It’s not poison, if that’s what you’re worried about. I make sure Malcolm, who works for me, has some every day. You could say it’s a kind of tonic.’

  ‘Perhaps I should try it.’

  ‘No!’ Eudora reached out a hand as if to withdraw the bottle, then allowed her arm to drop. ‘It might make you sleepy and you need your wits about you in your job. You give it to your grandmother. I have something different for you. Cordials I make up to my own recipe.’ She returned to the cupboard and took out two bottles. One contained a reddish mixture and the other one was purplish. ‘A spoonful of whichever takes your fancy each day will help your rash.’ She beamed down at Clara. ‘You can add water and make it into a drink. You’ll soon feel better.’

  ‘How much do I owe you for these?’ asked Clara, hoping they were not expensive.

  Eudora patted her shoulder. ‘A gift, dear. You’ve provided me with an answer to a question that’s been puzzling me ever since that night we met in Liverpool.’

  ‘You mean in connection with my dad?’

  ‘Yes.’ Her brow puckered. ‘I have an enemy. In fact, I most likely have more than one but the one I speak of is a spirit. A wicked woman who ruined her son’s life because of her narrow-mindedness and cold heart. She killed his wife but I rescued him from her clutches and dealt with her in such a way that she could never hurt him again. She has not forgotten and is trying to find a way in to punish me. I can hazard a guess now why she was able to connect with Dennis’s spirit.’ Eudora’s dark eyes glinted. ‘Anyway, I managed to close the portal in time.’

  Clara felt goose bumps rising all over her body and there was a tingling in the back of her neck and her scalp. Mrs Black made the other world sound so real. ‘So you cut off Dad before he could send me a message?’ she asked.

  Eudora said briskly, ‘What is it you would have liked him to say? You know he loves you and wants you not grieve too much for him and to have a happy life. You can’t have a better message than that, can you?’

  ‘You mean he actually said it?’

  ‘What do you think?’ asked Eudora gently.

  Clara’s eyes filled with tears and she rose to her feet, clutching the bottles and jar, and hurried from the room. She had to get out of this place before she broke down.

  She reached the front door before remembering the purpose of her visit. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she recalled what Mrs Black had said about Joy knowing more about Sebastian than she did. Where had the other woman gone? She stood a moment and then became aware of someone singing. Could it be another record on Mrs Black’s gramophone or was it Joy? She followed the sound and came to the kitchen. The door was open and the delicious smell of baking wafted out into the passage.

  She took a tentative step inside the room and gazed about her. The kitchen was large and immediately she felt at home, wishing she had one like it. There were cupboards and lots of shelves. Copper-bottomed pans hung on a wall and bunches of herbs and onions dangled from the darkened beams that crossed the ceiling. A kettle was steaming on the stove and a large table stood in the middle of a red tiled floor. The table held crockery, a tray of scones, a dish of butter and a bowl of blackberries. Joy was standing over by the sink, her head bobbing in time to the song she was singing: ‘Life is Just a Bowl of Cherries’.

  ‘Hello,’ called Clara.

  Joy spun round and smiled. ‘She sent you to find me, did she? I guess she wants me to tell you about Sebastian. He’s married to my brother-in-law’s half-sister, Alice. Family relationships can be so complicated, can’t they?’

  ‘I suppose they can,’ agreed Clara, remembering what Mrs Black had said about Seb being connected to the Kirks by marriage. ‘How is my cousin? I believe he’s wounded.’

  Joy drew out a chair. ‘Take a seat. Would you like a scone and a cup of tea?’

  Clara remembered the picnic in her bag but accepted anyway. ‘Sebastian’s not going to die, is he?’

  ‘Heavens, I hope not. Shrapnel from a hand grenade ripped through his right arm, so he can’t use it at the moment. Whether he’ll be able to in the future, we don’t know.’

  ‘I’m glad it’s not his legs,’ said Clara, thinking of the ex-soldier she had seen propelling himself along on a low trolley and begging in Lime Street. This was shortly after the news had come of her father’s death. The sight still haunted her and she’d had nightmares of her father’s limbs being blown away.

  ‘You’ve gone pale,’ said Joy, placing a hand on Clara’s shoulder. ‘Sorry. I forgot you’d lost your father in the war.’ Her voice trembled. ‘I lost someone too. At least, I don’t know if he’s dead or alive. He’s been missing for ages. Chris and I weren’t married. He was once a professional soldier, so was one of the first mobilised. Unfortunately, my dah took ill and I had to nurse him, so Chris and I didn’t even get as far as being engaged, but I was very fond of him.’

  ‘How sad for you.’

  ‘Worse for his mam and sisters because they also lost twin brothers.’ Joy turned away.

  ‘I feel awful bothering you,’ said Clara in a low voice.

  Joy swung round and faced her, dabbing her eyes with the corner of her apron. ‘It’s no bother. I’ve accepted my loss. Mrs Black has been a marvel. She offered me a job and a home when I needed them most after Dah died. Mother was in the asylum and Fredd
ie was at sea. We got rid of the house and I moved in here. Freddie stays with my sister, Hanny, and her husband, Kenny, when he’s home. They live just up the road from Alice.’

  ‘That’s handy.’

  Joy nodded. ‘You won’t realise until you see him just how like Seb you are. You’ve the same dark curly hair and brown eyes and his nose and cheekbones. It’ll be interesting to see what he thinks of you when you come face to face.’

  Clara’s eyes lit up. ‘You think he’ll want to meet me?’

  Joy’s smile faded. ‘I hope so, but it won’t be just yet. He’s still in a hospital down south.’

  Clara was disappointed. ‘I hope he gets well soon. I can scarcely believe I’ve got a cousin.’

  Joy smiled. ‘Not only a cousin. We’re distantly related by marriage, and there’ll be another member of the family in a few months. My sister and her husband are having their first baby after more than ten years of marriage.’

  ‘That’s wonderful,’ said Clara, trying to work out the relationship of the expected baby to herself and finding it almost impossible.

  ‘What else would you like me to tell you?’ asked Joy, starting to butter scones.

  ‘Tell me about my Aunt Gertie. Does she know about me?’

  ‘Not yet. We don’t have Gertie’s address. I only know that she lives on a farm near Delamere. Alice will know where she lives, so you’ll have to get in touch with her.’

  ‘You can give me her address?’