by June Francis
‘You think Seb’s lost his confidence?’
Tilly said, ‘Can you blame him?’
Clara shook her head. ‘But he needs to get out there if he wants to get it back.’
Tilly frowned. ‘You don’t have to say that. All of us who know Seb are aware of it. It’s all right for you to come here and start thinking you can give advice just because he’s your cousin. It’s easier to say things than do them. At the moment, he prefers hanging round the house.’
Clara was taken aback by the girl’s rebuke. ‘I didn’t think that at all,’ she said, placing another plate on the draining board. ‘But I am entitled to my opinion. This is a lovely house but I wouldn’t want to stay in it all day.’
Tilly’s cheeks reddened. ‘Sorry. I know what you mean about this house. Alice believed it was haunted when she and Seb took over here after they returned from their honeymoon.’
Clara stared at her. ‘Honestly?’
Tilly’s pretty heart-shaped face was solemn. ‘I was only about six at the time and was not supposed to know about it, but I’ve always had big ears and the grown-ups forgot I was there sometimes. Miss Victoria, who was the daughter of Mr Waters, Seb’s father, was murdered in the living room.’ She paused. ‘At least, Alice always believed it was murder, although Bert didn’t get hanged for the crime because they couldn’t prove he meant her to die. He wasn’t arrested immediately, but when he was it was for grievous bodily harm and theft.’
Clara was stunned at her casual mention of murder. ‘I’ve a feeling I’ve heard the name Bert before. You’re not joking about his being a murderer?
‘No. If you’ve heard his name then you’ll know he’s Freddie’s older brother. You’ve met Freddie Kirk, haven’t you?’ There was an odd note in her voice again that caused Clara to wonder whether Tilly resented her being there.
‘Yes. I met him briefly. He was kind enough to give Gran and me a lift in his motor.’
‘It wasn’t his motor, it belongs to the company,’ said Tilly, pouring milk into a saucepan. ‘We hire them out sometimes. Freddie’s just a common sailor, in case you thought he had money,’ she added, just as casually as she had mentioned the murder. ‘Anyway, where were we?’
‘You were talking about his brother,’ said Clara, deciding to ignore the slight and placing one of the tureens in the water. ‘Did he look like Freddie at all?’
‘I scarcely remember Bert now. I was only a tot when he went away. But I have seen a likeness of him. He’s fair-haired and good-looking. Anyway, Alice was in such a bad way about the whole thing that an exorcist from the Church of England was summoned. If Miss Victoria’s ghost really was here, then he got rid of her.’
Clara was fascinated by this further example of the supernatural. ‘Why did Freddie’s brother murder her? Was it a lovers’ tiff?’
‘I’m pretty sure it wasn’t. She was a lady.’ Tilly stirred an egg and sugar into the milk. ‘He’s another one that the family generally avoid talking about in front of me. Secrets! This family is full of them.’ She stilled as if a thought had suddenly occurred to her. ‘Of course, they’re your family now. I wonder what Freddie will think of that. We’re only related by marriage, so we’re not blood relatives.’
Clara nodded, remembering Mrs Black asking if she was certain that she wanted to get involved with Sebastian’s family because it could mean her getting caught up in his extended family’s problems, as well. ‘Bert is dead now, though, isn’t he?’
Tilly nodded. ‘So I’ve heard. It was a relief to one and all, I can tell you. Except for Mrs Kirk, who’s unaware of it. She’s not quite right in the head but harmless. Bert was her blue-eye and for some reason she’s convinced he’s in Australia.’
‘Why?’ asked Clara.
Tilly shrugged. ‘Something to do with his having written to her years ago that he was emigrating to that country. Now I’ll have to shut up, so I can concentrate on this custard.’
Clara washed the other tureen and the pans and had just finished and was drying her hands when a knock came at the door. ‘Come in,’ called Tilly, who was pouring custard into a jug.
The door opened and Freddie entered. Both girls stared at him. ‘Oh, you’ve decided to visit us at last. I wonder why,’ said Tilly, sounding irritated. ‘We’re just having pudding.’
‘I like pudding,’ said Freddie, smiling. ‘Will there be enough for me?’
‘I’m not sure. We have a guest, as you can see.’
Freddie’s gaze slid away from Tilly to Clara. ‘Miss O’Toole,’ he said, inclining his dark head.
‘Mr Kirk. I didn’t realise you were home.’ Clara felt flattered that he should have remembered her. It did not immediately occur to her that someone in the family might have mentioned to him that she was visiting her cousin. She was aware of his bold, blue eyes upon her face and was glad to be rid of her rash and that the colour of her skin was almost normal. He was as handsome as she remembered, his weatherbeaten appearance adding to his attractiveness. He was wearing a navy blue jumper and dark trousers and seemed taller than she remembered.
‘I got back on Christmas Eve. I never thought I’d see you here, that night in April,’ he said, smiling. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m fine, thanks. How’s yourself?’ she asked, wishing her heart would not jump around like a leaping frog inside her breast.
‘Glad to be home. How’s your gran?’
‘Still alive.’
‘I knew she was a tough old bird.’
There was a brief silence. Clara tried to think of what to say next but she was feeling quite breathless and could not understand why he should have such an effect on her.
Freddie drew closer and gazed even more intently into her face. ‘I can see the likeness to Seb better in this light,’ he said. ‘What did he say when he saw you?’
Clara had no intention of telling him. That was private. ‘Not what you might think. It was Alice who said I looked like his mother. I’ll add that he could have easily been mistaken for my father.’
Freddie looked surprised. ‘They’re that alike?’
‘Were. Dad passed over, if you remember.’
Freddie nodded. ‘It was quite a night, that. Mrs Black was all shook up. She almost convinced me that there was an evil spirit present. So will you be seeing Seb’s mother? If you want company, I’d be happy to go with you.’
‘You are forward, Freddie,’ said Tilly, breaking into their conversation. ‘How can Clara say no without being rude?’
Freddie turned and stared at her. ‘Mind your own business, Tilly. I’m sure if Miss O’Toole doesn’t want my company, she’s got the guts to say so. I just thought that Delamere isn’t an easy place to get to – and as I’ve just bought a second-hand motorbike, I could pick her up in Liverpool and we could make a day of it.’ He returned his attention to Clara. ‘What d’you say?’
Clara was about to tell him that she would need to write to her aunt first when Tilly said crossly, ‘She’d be better off on the train than riding pillion on a smelly machine. Now, out of the kitchen and let us get on with our work.’ She made shooing motions towards him. ‘You’ll find Seb and Alice in the dining room.’
Freddie took two strides and reached her and ruffled her hair. ‘You’ve too much to say for yourself, child. I can see I’ll have to get Miss O’Toole alone to speak to about this. I’ll leave you to it for now. Give her time to consider my invitation.’ He winked at Clara and strolled out of the kitchen.
Clara felt really annoyed with Tilly for interrupting their conversation. Earlier she had felt friendly towards the younger girl, but now she had a strong feeling that Tilly did not want her to be part of this family. She wondered if she was jealous because Freddie had given her most of his attention. Yet surely Tilly was too young to have romantic feelings towards him? Deciding that now was not the time to discuss the matter, she forced a smile onto her face and offered to carry the jug of custard into the dining room whilst she brought the apple pie and bowls.<
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Tilly accepted, but it appeared that she had not quite finished putting her oar in yet where Clara and Freddie were concerned. ‘I hope you realise that Freddie flirts with all the girls? You know what sailors are.’
Clara wondered how Tilly could possibly know that Freddie was a flirt when he had been away at sea for most of the war, but all she said was, ‘I come from Liverpool, so of course I know what sailors are. Lots of them gave their lives for their country.’ She walked out of the kitchen.
* * *
Freddie was singing softly to himself as he knocked on the dining room door. ‘It’s me, Freddie, may I come in?’ he called.
Silence.
Then he heard Seb say, ‘Of course, come in, Freddie.’
Freddie entered the room and immediately had the feeling that he had interrupted something important. His sisters had told him something of the testing time that the Bennetts were going through and he wanted to help. From his own experience of having a ship torpedoed and sunk beneath him, Freddie could imagine something of what Seb had been through.
‘It’s good to see you home again, Freddie,’ Seb said.
‘Good to see you, too,’ responded Freddie, approaching the table and having a proper glimpse of Seb’s face. He was not repulsed because he had seen far worse facial injuries from burns. ‘Have you thought of getting a black patch for that eye?’ he said.
Alice gasped. ‘Freddie, how could you? You don’t say such things when a man has…’
‘Sorry,’ said Freddie, ‘but it just came out. I knew a bloke who lost an eye and that’s what he did. It made him look really rakish. The girls swooned over him.’
‘Do you mind?’ she cried. ‘We don’t need to hear that kind of thing.’
‘Hush, Alice,’ said Seb, frowning. ‘Strange as it might seem, Freddie, a black patch is something that never occurred to me. A mask did, but that idea didn’t go down well.’
With that opening, Freddie decided to further state the case for eye patches. ‘You never thought of Lord Horatio Nelson of Trafalgar fame? One of the greatest sailors England’s ever known? He was never what I’d call a handsome man, not like you, Seb.’ He brought his face closer to the older man’s. ‘With those scars and a patch you’ll knock the girls dead. You’re still an attractive bloke, which I’m sure Alice has told you.’
Seb’s mouth twitched. ‘Go on. Say more that’ll make me feel better about this ugly mug.’
‘Not ugly,’ protested Freddie. ‘You should wear those scars like trophies. It was Shakespeare who wrote something about that.’
‘What’s this about Shakespeare?’ asked Tilly, entering the dining room in Clara’s wake. ‘I wouldn’t have thought you knew much about him, Freddie.’
He turned and gave her a severe look. ‘You’ve a bad habit of interfering in other people’s conversations, Tilly. I know plenty about Shakespeare. Our Hanny used to read his plays aloud and I asked questions.’
‘So what battle is it this time you’re talking about, Freddie?’ asked Seb.
‘Agincourt. Henry V,’ he replied. ‘The king said it to build up his troops before they faced the French.’
‘Did we win?’ asked Clara.
Freddie turned and grinned at her. ‘Of course we won. You don’t think Shakespeare would be writing plays in which England got beaten by the French?’
‘I suppose not.’ She smiled.
Clara was not the only one smiling. ‘You really are a head case, Freddie,’ said Seb, running a hand through his black curls. ‘I’d look like a pirate.’
‘Only if you wore a frock coat and a tri-cornered hat and went round singing Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum said Freddie.
Seb laughed, stood up and clapped him on the shoulder. ‘I don’t know about you, but I feel like a pint.’
Alice stared at him. ‘I can’t remember when you last went out for a pint.’
‘Well, I’m going now, if you and Clara have no objections?’
‘Who am I to come between a man and his pint?’ said Clara.
Freddie caught her eye. ‘Perhaps I can catch up with you later?’
She flushed. ‘If you want.’
Alice glanced from one to the other and then at her sister. She looked stricken. As the two men walked out of the dining room, those remaining caught Freddie’s words: ‘You could have two eye patches, Seb. One of black buckram and another painted gold for parties.’
‘That’s not a bad idea,’ was Seb’s response.
‘Well,’ said Alice brightly, staring at Clara and Tilly. ‘What do you think of eye patches?’
‘Trust Freddie to come up with such an idea,’ said Tilly, not meeting her sister’s eyes. ‘Are you ready for your apple pie and custard now?’
‘Please.’ Alice added, ‘Hanny was right after all when she said Freddie would be good for Seb. I just hope he’ll carry on keeping his spirits up, because he’s going to need it in the weeks to come.’
‘What d’you mean?’ asked Tilly, darting her a concerned glance.
‘He’s got to make a decision about his arm. It could turn out that Seb will have more in common with Lord Admiral Nelson than a missing eye.’ Her voice was strained.
Clara stared at her. ‘You don’t mean…?’
Alice said, ‘That’s what Seb’s been worrying about.’
‘Oh God,’ whispered Clara, ‘as if you didn’t have enough on your plate to worry about.’
Tilly was pale but did not speak, just dished out the pudding into three plates. It was not until she was sitting down and had picked up her spoon that she said, ‘At least Freddie made him laugh, and I hope he carries on making him see there’s still fun to be had in life.’
Alice reached out across the table and pressed her sister’s hand. ‘Whatever happens, at least it’s out in the open now.’
Tilly nodded. ‘If he’s been worrying about that then it makes sense of all that’s been going on. I’m a selfish so-and-so and will stop acting childish.’ She glanced at Clara. ‘I’m glad you came. I want the people about me to be happy. I think Seb’s changed his mind about you and I hope you’ll come again.’
Clara was touched by her words. ‘Thanks. I’ll come when I can if I’m invited.’
‘Oh, you’ll be invited again,’ said Alice, spooning up some pudding and placing it in Georgie’s mouth. ‘You know Joy and Freddie, so you have to meet their sister, Hanny. She’s been my best friend since I was Georgie’s age. She’s just had twins and they’re gorgeous.’
‘I’d like that,’ said Clara.
She listened as Alice told her about not only the twins but also of her own children and the funny things they did. She was aware that Tilly was taking no part in the conversation and wondered if, despite her kind words, she was upset because Freddie had given her so much attention. She hoped he’d return before she had to leave to catch her train. But as it was, Freddie and Seb had still not arrived back when she had to take her leave. She comforted herself with the thought that at least her journey had not been wasted. Alice and Seb had made her feel wanted and, despite what they had both said about believing Gabrielle wanted nothing to do with her mother, she did have her aunt’s address and intended writing to her in the not too distant future.
Chapter Sixteen
Dear Mrs Bennett. No! Clara crossed out the name and replaced it with Mrs Waters, having remembered that her aunt had remarried. She rubbed her fingers, which itched because she had a couple of chilblains, and took up another sheet of notepaper and started again. It had taken her a couple of weeks to get down to this because her gran had not been too well. Also, there was so much more to do now she was working longer hours, because there were days when they had a matinée.
Dear Mrs Waters,
I would like to address you as Aunt Gabrielle but you might consider that presumptuous of me, although you are my aunt. My father was your brother Dennis. I am sad to tell you that he was killed in France in 1917. Gran and I feel his loss greatly. He was such a lovely m
an and a good father to me and son to your mother.
You are probably wondering why I am writing to you now and how I came by your address, as I didn’t know of your existence until nine months ago. It’s Gran, her health is failing and she would like to make her peace with you. I managed to trace your son Sebastian and he gave me your address. If you could see your way to visiting Gran at our home here in Liverpool, it would be much appreciated. You’re the only one of her children left.
Yours very sincerely,
Clara O’ Toole.
She huddled inside her coat and read through what she had written, wondering if there was anything further she could say that might persuade her aunt to be reunited with her mother, but she could not think of anything. She glanced at her grandmother.
‘Is there anything you’d like me to put in the letter?’
‘Have yer mentioned how bad I am?’ wheezed Bernie.
‘Yes. I think I’ve said all that needs to be said where your health’s concerned,’ murmured Clara, folding the letter and placing it in an envelope. ‘I’ll post it on the way to work.’
‘You make sure yer do,’ admonished Bernie. ‘Who’s to say how long I’ve got on this earth. It’s bloody freezing in here.’
Clara said, ‘There’s a coal shortage, Gran, and we have to conserve what we’ve got. At least we seem to have escaped the flu.’
‘Let’s hope it stays that way. The sooner spring arrives the better my chest and old bones will feel,’ said Bernie, her breathing laboured. ‘If Gertie doesn’t come soon, d’yer think me grandson will visit?’
‘I told you that he has a lot on his plate.’ Clara had not told her that there was a possibility of his losing his arm.
‘What about that young man, that Freddie, yer told me he asked after me.’
