Shoddy Prince

by Sheelagh Kelly

  In a while, the woman came down. Bright had set a place at the table in the dining room. Miss Bytheway nodded approvingly as Bright put the meal before her. ‘I see you have a little more competence as a servant than as a mother.’

  ‘Thank you, ma’am.’ Bright wondered miserably why she had thanked her employer for the insult. ‘Will that be all?’

  ‘For the moment. You will return later for a list of instructions.’ Even at the table Miss Bytheway still clutched the same handkerchief, toying with its lace edges.

  ‘May I go and change Oriel?’

  ‘There’s no need, it’s all done. She’s asleep, so you have no need to disturb her. You must be hungry too, go and take your own meal in the kitchen. I shall ring for you if I require anything further.’

  ‘Very good, ma’am. Thank you.’ Bright dutifully left the room, but in a short while crept upstairs to check on Oriel. However, Miss Bytheway had not lied; the child was sleeping peacefully. ‘You wee wretch!’ Bright pressed her lips together, then went down to resume her tea in the kitchen, though the meal was soured by resentment. This woman seemed determined to take over her role as Oriel’s mother.

  This was confirmed later in the evening when Miss Bytheway once again gave Oriel her bottle, and afterwards it transpired that the elderly lady had an extra part to play – that of slave driver. The list of daily and weekly chores she had written out for Bright was two pages long. Whilst Bright had never been lazy, as the youngest child and the favourite daughter she had been somewhat cosseted at home and was not familiar with many of the tasks on Miss Bytheway’s list. The old lady noticed the startled look in her eye and demanded, ‘Well? Are you not up to the work? If not, then…’

  ‘Oh yes, ma’am!’ Bright was terrified of being relegated to the asylum. ‘It’s only that I’ve never done some o’ these things before. I might need showing what to do.’

  ‘Never washed clothes?’ demanded Miss Bytheway. ‘Never scrubbed floors?’

  ‘Well yes, ma’am, but—’

  ‘What is the point of hiring a servant and having to do the job oneself? With my engagement of you, Maguire, I had hoped that I would never have to ask myself that question again, as I have asked it countless times before. I had hoped that you, with a child to think of, would show more responsibility than your predecessors, that you would be grateful. But if you are unwilling to offer anything in return then I trust you will say so now.’

  ‘I can do it, ma’am,’ insisted Bright. ‘It’s just that this is such a big house. I mean, my family never had anything so grand, I’ve never had the practice…’

  ‘Then you will get plenty of practice here. Use your common sense and you will have no argument with me.’ Miss Bytheway sounded reasonable. ‘Obviously I do not expect perfection in your first few days, I am not a tyrant.’ To endorse this she indicated a pile of clothes on a chair. ‘And one cannot expect you to be efficient without the proper accoutrements. Take those up to your room. You will find two print dresses, four white caps and four collars – which I expect to be freshly starched each day. You will be allowed two woollen dresses for winter.’ She looked with disapproval on Bright’s shabby footwear. ‘I did not anticipate having to buy shoes. You will go out tomorrow for a new pair.’ She interpreted Bright’s expression and tutted. ‘Don’t worry! I shall give you the money. Little did I know that my act of charity might render me bankrupt.’

  Bright thanked her and picked up the stack of clothes.

  ‘You will find household cleaning items in the scullery cupboard. Before you go,’ Miss Bytheway went to a shelf and removed a thick tome, handing it to Bright, ‘I assume you can read?’

  Bright was humiliated. ‘I was a pupil teacher before…’ She hung her head.

  Miss Bytheway was unimpressed. ‘Well now you are a servant, from whom I expect competence.’ She placed the Book of Good Housekeeping on top of the pile of clothes in Bright’s arms. ‘This will be of great assistance. I suggest you refer to it this evening in preparation for tomorrow. You may go.’

  Utterly downtrodden, Bright left the room. However hard she tried to concentrate on the book her mind kept straying to Oriel at the top of the house. What was the point in having a child one was not allowed to see? It wasn’t fair. Nothing was bloody fair.

  Later on at ten o’clock there came the opportunity to be with her baby at last. Miss Bytheway announced that she always retired at this hour and expected Maguire to do likewise. ‘If you have to rise through the night to attend to the child do not make a noise. I shall expect a fire to be lighted in all downstairs rooms and breakfast on the table at seven-thirty. You will keep the nursery fire alight at all times. There is a receptacle in the yard in which to dispose of the hot ashes.’ She came as close to a smile as was possible. ‘Goodnight, Maguire.’

  ‘Goodnight, ma’am.’ Bright dimmed all the gaslights and ensured the grates were safe, then sneaked a jug of warm milk and a pail of boiled water to the nursery. She was determined not to miss the pleasure of giving Oriel her bath.

  The child had not yet woken for her nightly feed so Bright had plenty of time to prepare this and the bath before rousing her. Oriel arched her back in brief protest as her mother lowered her into the water. ‘Don’t you dare cry, Oriel Maguire,’ warned Bright. The infant relaxed and yawned, allowing her mother to scoop handfuls of warm water over her. Bright examined the tiny body for changes, setting up a one-sided conversation with the child. ‘You really showed me up in front of Miss Bytheway, didn’t ye?’ Oriel beamed. ‘There’s no need to be so cheerful about it! Why did ye let her feed ye? Ye know how much I’ve missed ye. She’s a weird old stick, isn’t she? Never cracks a smile. Did ye see the gob on it when we arrived? Like this.’ Bright contorted her mouth. The baby appeared to copy her, causing a giggle. ‘I don’t know how she manages to keep that bow in her hair, there’s barely a wisp to pin it to – probably glued on.’ Bright enjoyed another giggle with her baby, who smiled too. ‘Ah, I’m glad we can laugh, baby. I’ve a feeling that life in this house is going to be very hard, for me at least. Still, I should be grateful that she seems to like you. Look at all the toys over there that she’s bought for ye. Ye’d think if she loved babies so much she would have had children of her own. Who knows, she might have one somewhere – maybe she’s a naughty woman like your mammy, but never had a chance to keep her baby. Oh, Oriel!’ She wrapped the dripping babe in a towel and cuddled her intensely. ‘I wonder what your dada’s doing. He never meant to leave us, ye know. He’d love you if he saw ye.’

  Bright opened the towel and smoothed her cheek against the infant’s skin. Small hands flailed at her hair. ‘Oh, baby, I could sit here all night and talk to you. I could, ye know. Yes, but I’ve to be up in the morning so we’d better get you dressed and fed.’

  Wearing one of the fresh nightgowns that Bright had found in a cupboard, Oriel was given her bottle, linking her eyes with those of her young mother who talked softly to her all the while. When the bottle was drained Bright put Oriel over her shoulder and rubbed her back to bring up wind. The child began to doze. Bright succumbed to fatigue too. She tucked Oriel into her cot and, leaving the bath water to be emptied on the morrow, tiptoed to her cold little room.

  Though exhausted, she lay awake for some time, missing Oriel, wondering how long she would be allowed with her child tomorrow and worrying over the list of chores. When she dropped off to sleep she had nightmares that Miss Bytheway wouldn’t let her into the nursery, and woke up sweating to find Oriel crying for her two o’clock feed. Dragging her body up she hurried on tiptoe to the nursery and picked Oriel out of the crib. ‘Holy Mother, how can such a rotten stink come from a tiny angel? C’mon, let’s get you changed.’

  Afterwards, she carried both child and bottle back to her room. Pulling the covers up over them she fed her daughter, who was still beside her when she next awoke.

  Bright had slept later than she intended. The clock in the nursery said six-fifteen. She had the baby to feed,
four fires to light and breakfast to prepare in just over one hour. Frantic, she struggled into her new print dress, raging at all the buttons, then donned the headwear and apron. Streamers flying on her cap, she sped about her tasks, urging Oriel to hurry and finish her bottle so she could clean the grates and fill the coal buckets. Seven-thirty found her covered in stains – of milk, black lead and coal – which had her running up the five flights of stairs to change. ‘And I’ve hardly had the blessed things on an hour!’

  In the event, the mistress received her breakfast at seven-forty, for which Bright was reprimanded. After this Miss Bytheway took over the care of the child. With steps to scrub, brass to clean, clothes to wash, a rabbit to skin and cook for dinner and a succession of dusting and polishing, the only opportunity Bright had of holding her daughter was at bedtime and in the early morning. Life here was one constant round of work and as hard as she tried it was never good enough for her employer, who was forever picking faults. Bright would complain to her daughter – the only person she had to talk to – that this one old woman caused as much work as an entire army.

  ‘Ye know, I find it very mysterious,’ she told Oriel during one of their nightly ‘conferences’. ‘She doesn’t appear to have any family, and no one else calls on her. Mindst, I’m not surprised she’s no friends if the way she treats me is anything to go by. Apart from visiting folk in hospital the only place she goes is church.’ Bright herself had not yet been to Mass, though she had lied when Miss Bytheway asked if she had for she still harboured the fear that the nuns would decide she wasn’t caring for Oriel properly and take her away. This was irrational; she knew it was, the child was thriving here. But the fear remained with her. Indeed, fear of one thing or another was to dog Bright for the rest of her life. And there was not a day went by without her thinking of Nat. She thought of her family too. That was another reason for not going to Mass. Her father would be there and she wouldn’t know what to say to him. She desperately wanted to see him – all of them – but by design rather than accident. Perhaps if she paid a secret visit to her mother first that would ease the way to a reunion.

  One weekday morning, on impulse, Bright asked her employer, ‘Er, might I be permitted to nip out and call on my mother, ma’am? Tis the only time she’s alone, through the day.’

  ‘But you have work to do here!’ The elderly lady plucked at the sliver of lace that protruded from her other fist.

  Initially, Bright had assumed that the ever-present handkerchief meant that her employer was suffering from a cold, but had come to discover that it was some kind of habit. ‘I’ve done all there is to do before dinnertime. I wouldn’t be long, an hour at most, and I haven’t had any time off since I came here.’

  Her mistress was astounded. ‘You’ve been here barely a fortnight and you are asking for time off? Besides, I understood that your father had barred you from the house.’

  ‘He has. That’s why I have to go when my mother’s alone. Please, Miss Bytheway, she hasn’t seen her granddaughter in weeks.’

  ‘I would have thought that would be a relief. I’m sure your mother does not wish to be reminded that she has an illegitimate grandchild.’ She saw Bright’s mouth open to argue, and flicked her wrist. ‘Oh very well, you may go! I shall expect you back within the hour. But you cannot take Oriel. There may be a risk involved if your father returns unexpectedly. I shall take good care of her.’

  So Bright was forced to go alone. Perhaps it was the right thing to do; it wouldn’t be kind to march up to her parents’ door holding an illegitimate baby. When she got to the Pig Market she found it difficult to go further, but eventually found the courage to do so. Unsure of whether to knock or go straight in, she hesitated before opening the door and listening for a moment. Her mother was humming in the scullery. Bright crept further in, then stopped dead in alarm. Her father was lying on a chairbed by the fire. She stood there frozen, then saw that he was asleep and quite obviously ill, for his face was like putty. Her mother was still humming. Bright deliberated. If she tiptoed past and into the scullery her mother would shriek, maybe drop a plate and wake Dada. If she retreated now, neither of them would be any the wiser, but she could not take her eyes off her father. She wanted to go and sit at his bedside and kiss his brow and beg his forgiveness. She heard an intake of breath; her mother had come out of the scullery, seen Bright and now stood transfixed. Mrs Maguire cast a terrified glance in the direction of her husband, who remained asleep. She did not know whether to summon Bright into the back or shove her out the front. After agonizing indecision she crooked her hand frantically and Bright tiptoed into the scullery, where Mrs Maguire closed the door. Still not saying a word she went out into the yard, beckoning furiously to her daughter. Only when the door was shut did she break her silence. ‘For God’s sake whatever are ye doing here? He’ll kill the pair of us!’

  ‘I had to come and see you! I miss you.’

  The gentle eyes were tortured. ‘Bright, the Sisters tell me you’ve been found a good home with a lady who takes care of ye, be satisfied with that!’

  ‘I can’t! I hate it living with her! She doesn’t talk to me. Mammy, you’re looking at me as if I’m mad!’

  Mrs Maguire looked uncomfortable. The memory of the asylum was all too fresh. ‘No, I’m not!’

  ‘You are! I’m not mad, I just want to be with my family!’

  ‘The Bright Maguire I used to know wouldn’t be so ungrateful.’

  ‘I’m not, I swear it! I know how lucky I am to have a roof over my head and to keep my baby but I miss you, Mammy, I miss you!’

  They both fell together crying.

  ‘Your father’s not well.’ Mrs Maguire pulled away and sniffed into her handkerchief. ‘We don’t know what it is, neither does the doctor. It just seems like the light’s gone out of him since you left.’

  Bright’s heart sank. Oh please God, not more guilt. ‘Let me talk to him.’

  ‘No! He’ll never forgive ye, Bright, and you’ll get me into bother.’

  ‘Then I’ll come to Mass and pretend to be surprised at seeing ye,’ decided Bright. ‘That way it won’t implicate you.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter which way ye do it, you’ll aggravate his illness, and you’ll be hurting yourself too.’

  ‘I’m hurting already, Mammy.’

  Mrs Maguire saw that arguing was doing no good. ‘Where’s herself?’

  ‘I had to leave her behind. Miss B wouldn’t let me bring her. You’d think it was her child the way she goes on.’

  Mrs Maguire was stern. ‘Ye should be thankful she’s not against her.’

  ‘Oh, I am! But I hate the way she’s taken over. The first chance I get I’m away to find another job.’

  ‘Nobody’ll take ye,’ said Mrs Maguire with surety.

  ‘Miss B did,’ contradicted Bright. ‘There must be others like-minded. Then I’ll work and save and buy me and Oriel a place of our own.’

  ‘Head in the clouds as ever.’ An anguished Mrs Maguire reached for the sneck. ‘Look, I’ll have to go in, he may have woken.’

  ‘Oh, must you? It’s been lovely seeing you. Will you tell Dad I’ll be at Mass on Sunday?’

  ‘Sure I will not!’ came the scandalized whisper. ‘And I doubt you’ll be welcome there ever again after the terrible sin you committed.’ Mrs Maguire turned back to deliver an earnest plea. ‘Won’t you reconsider?’

  Bright shook her head.

  Her mother shook hers in despair, gave Bright a swift fierce kiss then left her alone in the yard.

  Bright returned to Fulford well before the allotted hour, so pleasing her elderly employer who granted her request to visit church on the Sabbath.

  * * *

  Sunday came. Bright’s pulse was racing even before she had left the house. By the time she reached George Street where the church was situated she was beginning to panic. Nevertheless, she went inside, crossed herself with holy water, genuflected to the altar and slipped into a pew. Her family was in the pew
across the aisle. Her mother, having anticipated this, had already seen Bright and was looking nervous. The others had not noticed her yet, being immersed in silent devotion. One by one they raised their heads and sat back in the pew to await Mass. Bright continued to look at them. Martin happened to turn his head, saw her and froze for a second, then gave her the most despising look, which shook her to the core. He nudged those on either side of him, Patrick and Eilleen. Patrick shared his condemnation. Eilleen looked as if she wanted to smile but daren’t. The others had all noticed Bright now. Only her father seemed unaware, as if he were in a trance. He looked extremely ill. Mass began. Bright slipped back into the familiar ritual. It helped to give her the strength she needed to face him.

  When Mass was over she stepped into the aisle, genuflected, then turned to her father. He did not appear to recognize her. There was nothing in his eyes, neither love nor fury. He simply stepped past her and walked towards the exit.

  ‘Shameless!’ came the horrified murmur from an erstwhile neighbour. Yet another: ‘How can she do this to her people?’

  Bright ignored the accusing faces, the loud whispers, and took a step after him. ‘Dada…’

  She felt her arm caught and looked around to face her brother Martin. ‘Keep away from him, bitch. Keep away from all of us. You’ve ruined this family.’ It was the softest of murmurs, the cruellest of blows. Saying nothing more, the Maguires left.