by June Francis
Seb shrugged. ‘The company might have been fun.’
‘Did you feel the odd one out? Is that what you feel now?’ she dared to add. He did not answer but turned away from her. Was this the end of their conversation? wondered Clara, and hesitated before taking a few more steps towards him. ‘I’ve been told I look like your mother. You remind me of my father, so the family likeness is there.’
‘Don’t come any closer,’ he said, glancing over his shoulder before facing the window again. ‘You seem a sensible girl but, despite the family likeness, Ma is not going to want a grand reunion with her mother. So you’re wasting your time coming here.’
‘She’s ailing,’ burst out Clara. ‘Gran probably doesn’t have much longer to live and I know she’s no angel but she needs your mother to forgive her. She’s your grandmother, too, so it’s your duty to help that come about.’
He rounded on her and she saw the scar on his face and the ugly dragged-down eyelid. ‘I have no sense of duty towards her. Why should I? She’s nothing to me.’
‘Then get to know her. You mightn’t like her but you’d be doing her a favour, as well as me.’
Seb glared at her from his single eye. ‘Why should I want to do you a favour? I don’t know you either.’ He jammed the picture frame against his chest and tugged on the cord.
Clara watched him, wondering what he was doing. ‘That’s not my fault,’ she murmured.
He pulled the cord free. ‘I knew you wanted something from me.’
‘Yes. But it won’t cost you anything. All I want is your mother’s address.’
A sharp laugh escaped him. ‘That’s all? It’s a lot. She hates her mother, so much so that I thought I came from a completely different background.’
‘I don’t blame Aunt Gertie for hating her. It was only recently that Gran told me about her. She was honest and said that she was a lousy mother. Admitted beating her and knows she only has herself to blame for her running away from home.’
‘I suppose that’s something at least.’ Seb put down the picture and the cord swung from his hand. ‘Ma goes by the name of Gabrielle these days.’
Clara smiled, thinking that at least he was still talking to her. ‘I know. I saw a poster in Mrs Black’s house. It was advertising a variety show in Liverpool. Your mother’s name was on it and so was Mrs Black’s, except her surname was Rogers then. I’d really love to meet Aunt Ger-Gabrielle and listen to her talk about her life on the stage.’
A low laugh escaped him. ‘They were Ma’s golden days… although she had tough times, too. She told me some lies. Gave herself a whole different background set in America. She married a musician. Perhaps Ma will be willing to see you but you’d have to go to the farm because she never leaves there these days. I haven’t seen her for ages.’
‘You’ll give me her address?’ There was a lilt in Clara’s voice.
He nodded. ‘I’ll do that for you but don’t expect too much. I doubt she’ll do what you want. I suggest you write to her first. It’s not a place that you can reach easily.’
She took a deep satisfying breath. ‘I really appreciate this.’
‘Right. You’ve got what you want. You can go now.’
Clara moved towards the door. ‘I have been invited to lunch. I will be seeing you later. I can tell you more about Dad.’
‘I know as much as I need to know about him. He was killed at the Front like thousands and thousands of other poor sods.’ Seb smashed the picture against the wall.
Clara jumped violently and stared at the broken picture with its splashes of reds, yellows and purples that depicted flowers against the walls of white-painted houses and thoughts ran crazily through her mind.
Alice burst into the room, ‘Are you all right, Clara?’ she cried.
Seb glared at her. ‘Of course she’s all right. What did you think I’d do to her?’
‘Nothing. I…’ Alice stared at the broken picture. ‘How did that happen?’
‘My fault. I felt like smashing something.’
‘No. It was mine,’ said Clara in a low voice. ‘I reminded him of how terrible it was out there.’
Seb stared at her in surprise and then nodded. ‘If the pair of you will get out of here now, I’ll tidy up this mess.’
‘Leave it to me,’ said Alice. ‘It’ll be easier for me.’
His face twisted in an ugly grimace. ‘Get out of here! Get out!’ he roared.
Alice backed away, grabbed Clara’s hand and dragged her out of the room, only to pause in the doorway and stare back at her husband. ‘There’s no reasoning with him in this mood,’ she said in a low voice, before ushering her over to the stairs.
Seb was mortified by his behaviour in front of his cousin and thought what he needed was putting out of his misery. He looked at the cord in his hand and then up at the skylight in the ceiling. Suddenly, everything began to spin around him. He put out a hand to save himself from falling but it was the wrong arm and he toppled forward, banging his head on the wall. He did not lose consciousness but slid slowly to the floor so that the crown of his head ended up resting against the skirting board. His body arched in such a way that the toe of his shoe almost touched his nose.
He was stuck and felt too weak to move. What a ridiculous position to be in! Then he felt a peculiar quivering in his stomach. Slowly, the sensation spread until his whole body was shaking with what must surely be insane laughter. It was bubbling in his chest despite his telling himself that he had nothing to laugh about, but the feeling grew, rising into his throat until it burst out of his mouth. He felt he was going to choke. He managed to lift his head, scraping it up the wall, and, stretching and straining, he managed to unlock his body. Now the laughter was pouring from him, and then the tears came.
Seb had no idea how long he cried but eventually he stopped and wiped his wet face with the back of his sleeve and shifted so that he faced the room. He had to make a decision about his arm and he had to talk to Alice about it first. Glancing about the attic, he thought she had been right, it would have been more sensible to let her tidy up the mess. He looked at the picture in the broken frame and thought that, if it could be fixed then it was a decent enough view for someone to want to buy it. Now there was an idea.
He managed to get to his feet and left the attic. He was halfway downstairs when he heard Georgie talking to himself in the small ante room that led off the master bedroom. He went inside and found his younger son trying to climb out of his cot. Noticing Seb, his feet slid down the bars and he held out his arms. ‘Dadee!’
Seb felt a warmth in his heart and wondered how he could have considered leaving his family to fend for itself. Somehow, they would come through this. After a struggle, he managed to lift Georgie up against him. Instantly, he realised there had been a leakage from the legs of the rubber pants that his son wore.
‘You’ll need changing, my lad. I suppose we’d best go down and tell your mother.’ He was not looking forward to facing his wife or cousin, but he had to prove to them both that he was sane again and regretted his momentary madness. He set Georgie on his feet and, with his son’s small hand in his larger one, went downstairs.
Chapter Fifteen
‘Are you sure you want me to stay?’ asked Clara, standing near the table.
‘Of course! You’ve come all this way and you’re not going away without being fed,’ said Alice, placing a tureen of carrot and turnip on the table. ‘Sit down.’
Clara did as she was told. ‘Did you hear any of our conversation?’
‘Some of it, but not all.’
‘He said he’d give me Aunt Ger-Gabrielle’s address. I’m going to write to her.’
At that moment Tilly entered the room carrying a plate with a shoulder of mutton on it. She had been introduced to Clara a few minutes ago. ‘What about Seb? Will he be eating with us?’
Alice shrugged. ‘We won’t wait for him if he’s not here in five minutes.’
‘He’s probably wishing me to Timbuktu,
’ said Clara, aware of Tilly’s eyes on her.
‘I wouldn’t say that,’ said Alice, sitting down and beginning to carve the meat. A task that Seb had done before he went to war. ‘He wouldn’t have said what he did about his mother if he wished you far away.’ The words were no sooner out of her mouth than Seb’s voice was heard on the stairs. ‘He’s coming,’ she whispered.
The three of them stared at the door that was slightly ajar and watched Seb enter the room with Georgie. ‘His nappy needs changing, love,’ he said to Alice. ‘He was trying to climb out of his cot. In future it would be a good idea to leave one side of it down so he’s nearer to the floor. He’s less likely to fall and hurt himself then.’
‘You’re right,’ agreed Alice, sounding relieved. ‘I remember we did that for the other two.’ She signalled to Tilly to take over the carving and stood up. ‘Sit down, Seb. Talk to Clara.’
He handed their son over to Alice. ‘Sorry about earlier,’ he whispered.
She was surprised into a smile. ‘Apology accepted. Don’t wait for me to eat.’ Swinging her son up into her arms, she hurried from the dining room.
Seb took a deep breath before sitting at the head of the table and facing Clara. ‘I’m sorry about losing my temper before. It won’t happen again.’
Clara was pleased to get an apology, she was aware that there were a lot of men who would never admit to being in the wrong. She smiled at him with warmth in her eyes. ‘We all have bad moments and some can be worse than others.’
‘Thanks.’ He toyed with his fork. ‘I’m sorry, too, about… about your father. I believe Mrs Black tried to get in touch with him.’
‘She did.’ Clara’s eyes gleamed. ‘It was very interesting.’
‘In what way?’ asked Tilly, glancing up from slicing the mutton.
‘Well, what happened was enough to send a shiver down my spine. And later when I saw her at her house in Eastham, she talked about portals and the evil spirit of a wicked woman whom she had dealt with for someone, trying to get back at her.’
‘She said that?’ asked Seb, looking amused.
Clara nodded. ‘But she also told me that Dad loved me and wanted me to get on with my life. I know it could all be baloney but I made up my mind then that I was going to believe that he was still himself and was with Mam. I determined to get on with iife as best I could without them.’ She glanced at Tilly, then Seb. ‘Don’t get me wrong. I wish they were both still alive and I’ll never forget them, but wishing won’t change things.’
‘You were lucky to have them so long,’ said Tilly, placing mutton on plates. ‘I never knew my parents. Mam died when I was born and I’ve never known my dad. A veil of mystery hangs over him because nobody in the family will talk to me about him.’ She fixed Seb with a questioning stare.
‘Why’s that?’ asked Clara.
Tilly shrugged slender shoulders. ‘I wish I knew. But one day I’m going to unwrap the mystery.’
‘That’s enough, Tilly,’ admonished Seb firmly. ‘Kenny and Alice have a good reason why they don’t want you to have anything to do with your father. Sometimes it’s wiser to leave the past alone. Now hurry up with that meat. I’m sure Clara’s hungry after her journey.’
Tilly said softly, ‘Keeping secrets from me isn’t the right way to get me to drop the matter. It just makes me more curious. But I’ll say no more on the subject right now. Perhaps Clara would like to dish out the vegetables for us.’
‘Happy to,’ said Clara, pleased to be asked. She did wonder, though, what the mystery about Tilly’s father could be. She picked up a tablespoon and began to dish out the vegetables. ‘So where does Aunt Ge-Gabrielle live, Seb?’ she asked, tagging on hastily, ‘I can call you Seb?’
‘Of course. We’re cousins, aren’t we?’ he said easily. ‘Besides, I’ve just called you Clara.’
‘Of course, so you did.’
‘Ma lives on a farm near Delamere Forest. Have you heard of Delamere?’ he asked.
‘Yes. I did know she lived on a farm but not the name of it. Is it far away?’ She glanced at him and felt that slight sense of shock because on his good side it was like looking at her father.
‘It’s a good few miles from here; further from Liverpool, of course. There is a railway station but you’d still have a bit of a walk to get to the farm. That’s why it’s best to write first, so that you can be picked up at the station. It’s Pine Farm, Delamere, Cheshire, and her married name is Waters. Mrs Martin Waters. I hope she writes back to you, but Ma’s not the best of correspondents, so don’t build up your hopes too high.’
‘I’ll try not to but it won’t be easy,’ said Clara, putting down a tureen. ‘I’m hoping she’ll remember Dad, so will write back to me for his sake if for no other reason.’
Seb looked thoughtful. ‘It’s possible. So tell me… what did your dad do before the war?’
‘He was a carter. He loved his horses. In fact, according to Mrs Black, he died whilst driving a horse-driven ambulance.’
Seb gave her a sharp look. ‘She was able to tell you that?’
Clara nodded and picked up her knife and fork. ‘Amazing, isn’t it? I don’t know how she could have known.’
Tilly said, ‘So there could be something in this getting in touch with spirits? I find the thought quite exciting.’
Seb shook his head at her. ‘Don’t let Alice hear you say that. You know how she feels about Mrs Black.’
Tilly raised her eyebrows. ‘Stop worrying, Seb. My lips are sealed.’
Clara smiled. She was finding Tilly quite fun. ‘I believe Mrs Black and Aunt Ge-Gabrielle…’ She closed her eyes briefly. ‘I’ll get the hang of her new name sooner or later. I believe they were childhood friends? I’ll admit I did have my doubts about Mrs Black when I discovered she knew the family from old, but then, as I said earlier, she’s convinced me since that she definitely has some kind of gift. She’s a healer, too. And has really been of help to me. If you could have seen my face a few months ago! My skin was turning yellow and I had a rash.’
Seb leant across the table towards her. ‘It looks all right to me now.’
She blinked as their noses were only a few inches away, so she had a real close view of the damage to his face. It occurred to her that if it was as Alice had said and he hated people looking at him, then he must have got over that worry where she was concerned.
Clara said, ‘That’s because she’s a marvel.’
‘Pity she couldn’t help Seb then,’ murmured Tilly, frowning at the pair of them.
The cousins drew apart.
Seb ignored that remark. ‘I have to admit that I do wonder what Mrs Black’s motives are in trying to reunite Ma with you and your grandmother. You’ll have to forgive me if I say I’m a mite suspicious, knowing that they fell out years ago.’
‘You’re remembering the confrontation between Mrs Black and your mam outside this house,’ said Tilly promptly. ‘I heard Hanny discussing it with Alice. It wouldn’t surprise me if she was out to cause mischief. I bet she hasn’t forgotten your ma calling her a murderess. And knowing Gabrielle always acted like she was a cut above some, Mrs Black would be delighted if your grandmother proved to be an embarrassment to her.’
Clara wondered if she had misheard something that Tilly said and instantly asked, ‘Why did Gabrielle call Mrs Black a murderess?’
‘Take no notice of Tilly. Ma’s got a quick temper and she can fly off the handle and say things that aren’t true,’ said Seb. ‘I’ve always believed there was nothing more in what she said than Ma wanting to get back at Mrs Black because she was jealous.’
Clara said, ‘She sounds just like Gran. But your mother won’t have to worry about Gran embarrassing her. As I said in my letter, Gran’s not fit to travel that far. If your mother does decide to see her then she’ll have to come over to Liverpool.’
‘Unless Freddie could take your gran in one of the firm’s motors to the farm,’ murmured Tilly.
‘Why should Freddie
do that?’ asked Seb.
Tilly shrugged.
There was a silence.
Alice chose that moment to enter the dining room with Georgie. ‘Haven’t you started eating yet?’ she said in surprise.
‘No. We’ve been talking,’ said Tilly smoothly.
‘What about?’ asked Alice.
‘Family, amongst other things,’ replied Tilly.
‘I suppose that’s natural with Clara coming to visit us,’ said Alice, sitting Georgie in his feeding chair and seeing to him before she sat down beside Seb and began cutting up his meat.
It made Clara realise just how serious the damage to his right arm was, way beyond Mrs Black’s abilities to fix. She wished that she could do something to help him but could not see what. But when they had finished their first course, at least she felt able to offer help to Tilly in clearing the dishes away.
The younger girl shrugged and said, ‘Why not? Bring the tureens and follow me.’
Clara did so and discovered that she liked the size of the kitchen as much as she had liked Mrs Black’s larger one. She placed the tureens down on the table and asked if there was anything else she could do to help.
‘Would you mind washing the crocks whilst I see to the pudding?’ asked Tilly, looking surprised. ‘It’s apple pie and custard.’
‘I wouldn’t have offered if I minded,’ said Clara, taking Tilly’s place at the sink, where she had placed the dishes and started to run hot water on them. She gazed out of the window and said, ‘I wish we had a garden. It would be lovely to sit in and watch the flowers grow.’
Tilly chuckled. ‘Gardens are hard work! There’s digging, sowing, planting feeding, watering, and there’s always weeding. I know because I help.’
Clara turned off the hot tap, felt the water and ran some cold. ‘Surely Seb and Alice have a gardener? Mrs Black has a man to help her.’
Tilly shook her head. ‘They’re not rich, you know. This house belongs to Seb but he hasn’t worked since he came home. He and Kenny, my half-brother, own a motor business, but it hasn’t done much during the war. Hopefully things will improve this year, although Kenny seems to think it’ll be some time before the motor factories are all geared up for peacetime work. Then he will need Seb’s help. He used to be good in the showroom because he knew better than Kenny how to speak to the customers, he was a natural salesman.’
