Shoddy Prince

by Sheelagh Kelly

  Nat shrugged, eyes on the tiny particle of ash that had settled upon the golden moustache. ‘Other people wouldn’t think there was anything odd in it. Rubbish and me tend to go together.’

  ‘Oh, that’s a bit hard!’ Noel exhaled a cloud of smoke, so dislodging the fragment of ash which tumbled down onto his jacket.

  ‘It’s what a lot o’ folk think of me.’ There was the merest hint of bitterness in Nat’s tone. ‘Besides, I’m a bit superstitious. It’s the only thing I’ve succeeded at, I’d be a mug to chuck it away. Anyroad, I enjoy it, love the surprises you get – you never know what you’re going to find.’ He went on to explain his appearance. ‘But just because I do a job like this doesn’t mean I don’t want nice clothes. Oh, I’m no toff, nor never will be, but I spent enough years looking like a bag of rags. Anyway I need to attract meself a wife.’ It was a glib remark. Nat was content to rely on the variety of sexual favours that his dark and soulful good looks had attracted to date.

  ‘Don’t we all?’ agreed Noel. ‘I never get enough time to socialize in this job. I’ll probably end up having to marry someone my mother’s chosen.’

  ‘Still under home rule, then?’

  ‘No, actually I have an apartment adjoining the surgery. Not that it makes any difference, I never have time to lure any women up there.’ Something flashed in his eye. ‘Speaking of women, have you seen anything of Bright since you’ve been back?’

  Nat’s whole demeanour changed. ‘Why do you ask that?’

  The doctor retained his innocent air but his suspicion about Oriel’s paternity had just been confirmed. ‘No reason, just that she used to be a close friend of yours didn’t she? I mean, you lived with her family.’

  ‘A long time ago.’ Nat found himself unsettled by the way the doctor was staring directly into his eyes and pretended to busy himself over coat buttons that were already fastened. His chest felt ready to explode with cigarette smoke.

  ‘Yes, that’s what she said.’

  ‘So you’ve seen her?’ Nat’s eyes came up to meet the direct gaze.

  Noel looked into their blueness; they were watering from the man’s efforts to control his coughing. He took a final drag of his cigarette before grinding the butt into the linoleum. ‘Yes, I last saw her, oh, a few months ago. Her employer, Miss Bytheway, is a patient of mine, unfortunately. I’ve been visiting the old cow for the past five years.’

  ‘How long has Bright been there?’

  Noel shrugged. ‘I’d guess about thirteen years.’ It wasn’t a guess. He knew that Bright had been at her present address since the birth of her child.

  This made Nat think: he had never questioned that Martin might have been lying about his sister being in the Maguires’ house on the day of Nat’s beating.

  ‘Are you her doctor as well?’ He tried to sound casual, ending his query with a bronchitic wheeze.

  ‘No. Bright appears to have an excellent constitution. It’s just as well, she’s worked very hard by the old maid.’

  ‘Is she married?’

  ‘No.’ He’s fishing for news of his daughter, thought Noel, and out of a sense of mischief did not offer any information whatsoever.

  ‘So, whereabouts is she living then?’ Nat took shallow breaths in order to avoid the pain of coughing.

  His informant was unspecific. ‘Fulford.’

  Nat did not want to appear too concerned and merely nodded, but had the idea that his old friend was playing games with him.

  ‘I visit the old girl once or twice a year. Shall I give Bright your regards the next time I see her?’

  ‘I wouldn’t mention it.’ Nat brushed an imaginary speck from his lap. ‘She won’t want to be bothered with me. I caused her family a bit of upset being put away like that.’

  Brown eyes quizzed him. ‘If that was meant to be a dig at me…’

  ‘Why should I take a dig at you?’

  ‘Well, I just want to set the record straight, Nat. I tried my best to protect you but Father…’

  ‘Yes, he would think it was me.’ Nat looked sour.

  The other reproved him. ‘He was extremely fond of those birds.’

  ‘So was I,’ volleyed Nat.

  ‘Yes, I know, and Father knew it too, but people have their limit for tolerance and I’m afraid you found Father’s when you led Denzil to our home.’

  ‘You think I had any choice once he found out I’d been there? I could’ve killed him for what he did.’

  ‘Yes, we both know what he’s like but I’m afraid others didn’t. Have you bumped into him since you’ve been back?’

  ‘D’you think if he was in York I’d be sitting here in one piece?’

  Noel frowned. ‘You don’t mean he’d still take the opportunity to get even after all these years?’

  ‘I wouldn’t put it past him,’ muttered Nat. ‘You saw what he was capable of. I’ve always got me eye open for him.’

  Noel winced. ‘I’m sorry he got the idea that it was you who informed on him. As I said, I did my best to defend you but obviously not well enough. I truly didn’t enjoy seeing you locked up, Nat. I would’ve come to visit if I’d been allowed to. I hope we can still be friends?’ He meant it.

  Were we ever really friends, thought Nat, but shrugged and said, ‘Course. It all happened a long time ago.’ He may need Noel some day and, besides, he had always enjoyed his company.

  ‘An awful long time. Sometimes this job makes me feel very old.’

  ‘You always said you wanted to be a doctor,’ observed Nat.

  ‘My father wanted me to be a doctor,’ corrected Noel.

  ‘Still bossing you about is he?’

  ‘He’s dead. He died some years ago of cancer.’

  ‘Oh, sorry.’ Nat tried to sound genuine. ‘But if he was dead why couldn’t you do what you wanted?’

  ‘This may sound melodramatic to you, but I made a promise to him on his deathbed that I would do my utmost to fulfil his wish. Besides, I don’t know what I want out of life so I may as well be doing this.’ Noel shrugged, then after a moment took out his watch and sighed. ‘Well, it’s been wonderful to see you, Nat. I’m sorry if it appears I want to be rid of you but I’d better attend to those miserable fackers out there. Listen,’ he added as Nat rose and picked up his hat, ‘keep warm and come back if you start to feel worse. Don’t lose touch again. Give me your address and we’ll have an evening together some time soon. I mean it now.’

  ‘Aye, I’d like that.’ Nat scribbled down his address and telephone number on the pad that Noel shoved at him. ‘And if you find you have nowt to wear I’ve got a little shop where I sell all the better stuff I collect. Some of it’s real quality. I’ll give you a discount.’ He returned the pad to Noel, who looked at his writing.

  ‘Thanks for the offer. Oh good, you have a telephone! I’ll give you a ring – and don’t forget the bloody medicine!’ Noel called after Nat as he left, still coughing uncontrollably.

  The rag and bone merchant climbed back into his cart, thinking about Bright. The name of her employer was very distinctive, he could look it up in a street directory and find out the address. What would he do then? He was not sure, and right now he felt too ill to act upon it. Stopping to buy a bottle of whisky he went home to bed.

  * * *

  Upon recuperating, Nat visited the library to look through the street directories, finding out that Bright, or at least her employer, lived at number five St Oswald’s Terrace. After consulting a street map he jumped on one of the new electric trams and went there immediately. The vehicle dropped him very close to his target. Alighting, he paused there a while and looked across the road at the tall row of houses before starting to feel conspicuous. What an idiotic idea this was. He could be standing here all day and not catch a glimpse of her. Was not the beating from her brothers sufficient indication that she no longer wished to associate with him? But then if she had been living here for thirteen years as Noel had said then Martin must have been lying about her being in the
house that day. She might be totally unaware of the episode. Go and knock, he urged himself. No, the fear of rejection was too strong.

  Turning to look behind him he saw open fields. Another turn of head to his left showed the village of Fulford. After standing here for a further three minutes he decided to wander towards the village for something to do, occasionally casting a backwards glance at the house in which Bright and his child were resident, hoping he would not miss their appearance. Even at this slow pace the journey into the village and back took little more than twenty minutes. He decided to adopt his former position as if waiting for a tram. He waited, and waited…

  Bright was upstairs cleaning her employer’s bedroom. The old lady had recovered from her winter bout of illness and was now in the dining room with Oriel. Bright finished polishing the mahogany and arched her back. Having taken down the lace curtains to wash, she had opened one of the windows to let in some air but it was starting to feel a bit chilly in here and she went to pull down the sash. Enjoying a moment’s idleness, she gazed across the open countryside. The wintry brown had given birth to fat buds and snowdrops. On this clear spring day she could see right across to the Wolds. Wouldn’t it be nice to go for a walk in the sunshine, to feel its warmth upon her face? How often in her youth she had been teased about her freckles, but so rarely was she allowed out of doors that these were hardly visible nowadays. Her dreamy gaze floated down into the street – and jolted her back to reality. Nat! She cringed against the wall for ten trembling seconds, then mustered the nerve to peep from behind the curtain. What was he doing here? He certainly wasn’t waiting for a tram, he had just allowed one to go by. Why, he was watching the house! He did know where she lived after all, must have seen her that day when she fled from his call. Ra-bo! For one brief moment impulse urged her to run out and meet him – before cruel logic ate into her joy. If he truly loved her, why had it taken him years to return? Why did he not come right to the door? She continued to watch from behind the curtain, terrified at the sight of him, thrilled and saddened at the same time. Unobserved, she was able to take a good look at the face she had once loved… still loved. Her breast ached with the same intense longing that Nat had inspired all those years ago. The stark realization that he did not love her could make no difference to her own feelings. She had tried to make her heart see reason but the fact that it was beating like a drum at the sight of him now, even after all these years, belied her insistence that she was over him… and there was the added bond of the child.

  Downstairs, Oriel, who was almost fourteen now, was insisting to Miss Bytheway that she intended to become a nurse.

  Miss Bytheway had just finished writing a short letter which she now inserted into an envelope. ‘I’m afraid that’s impossible.’ Her voice held conviction but was not unkind.

  Oriel was tinkling the icicles on the ruby glass centrepiece. Her tone was lofty. ‘Mother says I can be anything I want to be.’

  ‘Oh does she?’ A scrawling hand penned the address on the envelope. ‘Well, your mother is quite wrong.’ Miss Bytheway looked up. Her hair all but gone, the huge black bow had been dispensed with and in its place was a lace cap. ‘Take the word of one who knows. I have you marked for a much better career – it’s your welfare I have at heart.’ She came as close to a smile as was in her repertoire. ‘Here, be so kind as to post this letter for me, dear.’

  The thud of the front door made Bright jump. Still employing the curtain as a veil she craned her head, but it was impossible to tell who had emerged because of the bay window on the storey below. The gate whined. Bright gasped at the sight of her daughter flouncing down the road. Nat had seen her too. He had come to attention. Bright guessed now that there could only be one reason that he did not come directly to the door and reintroduce himself, but skulked instead like a spy; it was not Bright he had come to see but his daughter. Who had told him of her existence? Was it Noel? Would he accost her? It was too late to stop Oriel now. Bright held her breath and watched.

  Nat had been contemplating going home, but as the door of number five opened he became alert and turned slightly away in case it was Bright who should exit. Instead a figure, half-woman, half-child, skipped out into the road. His daughter. He knew it for a fact. He held his breath and watched her walk to the pillar box on the corner. Inserting the letter, she skipped back towards the house. Briefly she turned her face – his mother’s face – sparking in him both longing and anguish. His eyes devoured every detail. The emotions he endured in those seconds were unbearable. The girl was going back into the house. He wanted to speak to her, tell her who he was – but she was gone.

  Bright let out a relieved exhalation, but continued to watch him. Only when a tram rumbled along and Nat got on it did she allow herself to sag in relief and misery. He was gone, but his appearance had given rise to all sorts of problems. Should she warn Oriel that she might be approached by her father and so inflict a state of permanent apprehension? Nat might not come again and then how hurt and disappointed Oriel would be. She decided to do nothing for the moment, though the incident had made her jumpy. In future whenever she ventured out she began to take more notice of the people around her, imagining that Nat was watching.

  Sometimes, Nat was watching. The sight of his daughter had lured him back again and again since that day. Once, he had even followed her when she and Miss Bytheway took a rare outing to town, had sat at a nearby table in a restaurant listening to their conversation, had heard her name – Oriel. It was obvious his child needed no financial help; the old woman was expensively dressed and well-spoken, and she would teach Oriel how to be a lady. But therein lay another problem. Was Oriel too much of a lady to accept him as her father? Many times he had come close to approaching her. Many times he had failed. One look at her told him she would not be too impressed to have a rag and bone merchant as her father. What choice had he but to love this young lady from a distance?

  * * *

  ‘You’ll never be a lady,’ reproved Bright as her daughter passed wind. ‘I don’t know why Miss Bytheway wastes her time.’

  Oriel giggled. ‘I didn’t mean to, it just slipped out.’ She had just brought a tray down from the old lady’s bedroom. ‘Good thing I didn’t do it up there.’

  ‘No, you thought you’d save it for your poor old mother,’ accused Bright, wafting at the air, an expression of disgust on her face. ‘My God, that would just about finish her off.’ At the end of a year that had seen the death of their monarch her employer was once again bedridden.

  Oriel removed the breakfast pots from the tray, the contents of which were hardly touched. ‘I love it when Miss B gets ill.’ She nibbled on a triangle of toast.

  Bright laughed. ‘A very sympathetic nurse you’ll make.’

  ‘No, it means that Dr Noel will be calling. I wish he came more often.’ The doctor had been making annual visits for the past five years, had seen Oriel grow from a child to a young woman. ‘It’s so lovely to have someone to talk to.’

  ‘Oh, thank ye!’

  Oriel laughed. ‘It’s no slur on you, Mother. I just meant it’s nice to chat with someone different from time to time, especially a man. The amount of men we get here you’d think the species was extinct.’

  Bright was thoughtful. Was there too much interest in the doctor’s maleness? Oriel was fourteen after all, a similar age to that which she herself had been when… no, no, she scolded herself! Fancy accusing Noel of a thing like that, and him a thorough gentleman. Can’t you see it’s a father she wants. And who could blame her thirst for male company, cooped up here all her life with two women, one a drudge and the other a tyrant. She forced herself to be charitable; that wasn’t fair on Miss Bytheway, who despite her periods of illness had made a magnificent job of Oriel’s education, even if she had not quite managed to elevate Bright’s daughter to the heights of gentility she might have liked. It was just the unnaturalness of it all; a child needed two parents. And where was that other parent? She had not mentioned N
at’s observation to Oriel for as far as she knew he had not come again, although part of her wished he would. Often she lay in bed and wondered what it would be like to be married, to have Nat lie beside her, to wake up every morning for the rest of her life and see his face. Many times she had dwelled on that night and the act that they had performed. Her thoughts towards it had altered. She found herself gripped by longings and desires that she could not explain, sometimes dwelled upon it so much that her lower abdomen became seared with intense heat, felt like she was ready to give birth to a lump of burning lead from between her legs…

  The doorbell rang. Bright jumped. Oriel skipped to answer it.

  ‘Ladies don’t run!’ accused her mother.

  ‘Hello, Oriel!’ Noel seemed as delighted to be here as the occupants were to see him, hanging up his own hat like a member of the household. ‘See how quickly I respond to your command?’ He patted the telephone that had recently been affixed to the wall near the coat hooks. Oriel had been the one to use it this morning.

  Oriel treated him to her enchanting smile, then whispered, ‘It’s been there ages and Mother hasn’t dared to use it!’ She giggled. ‘She jumps six feet into the air whenever it rings. Miss B thinks she’s crackers. The old girl loves it herself. You ought to hear her bellowing into it. Not this morning, though, she’s too croaky.’

  ‘Oh dear, she won’t be entertaining me with any Christmas carols then. And how are you? Still harbouring the ambition to be a nurse?’ Every visit he asked this same question; it had become something of a joke between them.

  ‘Of course.’ Oriel adopted a prim and proper expression that was meant to represent her benefactress. ‘Even though Miss B insists that I go to a school of commerce.’