Shoddy Prince

by Sheelagh Kelly

  Nat stood in the doorway, preventing her from leaving. He had wanted to buy her a gift but had decided against it, and now made another offer. ‘I’d like to make sure of that by giving you this Christmas bonus.’ He held out an envelope. ‘I’m really pleased with the work you’ve done.’

  ‘I’m sure you pay me enough already.’ Oriel was slow to take up the offer.

  ‘Please.’ He shoved the envelope at her. ‘Surely your mother would find it handy, what with all the extra stuff she’ll have to buy.’

  Oriel accepted. ‘Thank you, I’m sure she will.’ The rift between herself and Bright had healed, though only because neither of them had mentioned his name since the argument. She asked, ‘Will you be entertaining at all?’

  ‘I doubt it.’ Since Violet, there had been one or two brief flings but no one he would marry even in an emergency. ‘There’ll be just me and Talbot.’ At the mention of his name the hound wagged his tail.

  Oriel took a dangerous chance. ‘Would you care to take your Christmas dinner with us? I’m certain Mother…’

  ‘Oh, no, no!’ As his daughter had so cleverly anticipated, Nat issued hasty refusal. ‘I couldn’t impose.’

  No, or you’d soon be found out for the charlatan you are, wouldn’t you?

  ‘Besides, I don’t like to leave Talbot on his own for too long, but thank you for the offer, it’s very kind.’ Nat breathed a sigh of relief as she accepted his refusal. ‘Don’t you worry about me, I’ll find plenty to occupy me.’

  ‘I trust that doesn’t mean work?’ censured Oriel. ‘Don’t you ever take time off to relax, read or something?’

  ‘Perhaps I will.’ Nat did not reveal that the books on his shelves had been chosen merely for their size and colour. He had not read one of them.

  ‘Well, I’ll bid you goodnight and wish you a merry Christmas, Mr Prince.’ Oriel moved towards him.

  Nat stepped reluctantly out of her way. ‘And the same to you, Oriel – and to your mother.’

  Alone in the house, he poured himself a whisky, fell into a leather chair and pictured himself at Bright’s table. If only he could…

  As prophesied, Nat spent the festive season alone, except for a visit from Spud which did not really count as he only came to deliver his collection. Noel called on the day after Boxing Day. However angry the other might make him, however hard he might try to stay away, he had always found himself wanting in self-discipline where Nat was concerned. He knew he would always keep on coming back. ‘I was going to come yesterday but I thought you might be entertaining.’

  Nat scoffed. ‘Me, entertaining?’

  ‘No one new yet, then?’ The doctor had projected sorrow earlier in the year when his friend had announced that the intended nuptials had been cancelled, though he had not relayed this to Bright while there was still hope for himself.

  ‘No one I’d want to spend Christmas with.’

  ‘Cutting it a bit fine, aren’t you?’ Noel was asked what he meant by this. ‘Oh, come on, you only want a wife to save you from going to war.’

  Nat feigned affront, then delivered a secretive grin.

  ‘As I said, you’re cutting it fine.’ Conscription loomed ever nearer. ‘There must be a lot of desperate women who could oblige.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it, but pride prevents me from marrying any old trout and the decent ones all want to wait for this that and the other. If it’s a choice of being shot or marry an ugly woman I think I’d choose being shot. How about you? Is your mother still pestering you for grandchildren?’

  Noel twiddled his moustache. ‘Yes, but I’m not about to marry for the sake of it – not like some.’ He made no mention of his proposal to Bright, nor of her consequent refusal.

  ‘It’s all right for you!’ laughed Nat. ‘Safe in your doctor’s job. Just spare a thought for those of us who aren’t so lucky.’ He hoisted his glass. ‘Anyway, a belated Merry Christmas!’

  New Year’s Day brought the proclamation Nat had been dreading: conscription for single men. Thus he hastened his search for a bride, whom he finally cornered in March. There had been a thick layer of snow overnight but the afternoon’s brilliant sunshine had transformed it to slush, which Nat’s horse had flicked up onto the clothes of passers-by, Olive amongst them. There had been angry words at first, but when Nat had apologized the young lady had shown a generosity of spirit that had attracted more of his attentions and, wasting no time, he had asked her out. Unlike Violet’s parents, Olive’s widowed mother thought that chaperoning was old-fashioned, allowing Nat to press his suit unhindered. Apart from being pretty, Olive had a lovely disposition too and Nat, feeling instantly at ease in her presence, knew that he could live with this one.

  * * *

  Easter came. In the old days this would have meant one long round of churchgoing for Bright but, though she and her daughter still attended Mass, she had not sat through the Vigil on Good Friday for many a year. Oriel herself showed indifference to her religion, stating that she only went to church to keep her mother company. ‘I can’t see why you still go. From what you’ve told me the church wasn’t much help when you needed it.’

  Bright regarded this as sacrilege. ‘I never meant to give the impression that it was no help at all! The nuns were very good to me, gave me clothes and food and looked after me when my own kin didn’t… tis just that they thought you’d be better off with a married couple. I suppose they were doing it for the best, but I wouldn’t have any of that. I was determined to keep you.’

  Oriel felt privileged. ‘If it had been left to the church I would never have known who my dear mother is. I view it rather differently than you do.’

  ‘Well, you don’t have to go to Mass.’ Bright struggled with a hatpin. ‘But I was raised a Catholic and I couldn’t stop now after all these years. Anyway, tis a comfort.’ And always in her prayers she mentioned Nat.

  They went off to early Mass, returning for breakfast. Oriel had the day off work and later in the morning expressed a wish to visit the cemetery to put flowers on Miss Bytheway’s grave. ‘I feel I should after she left me all this. Are you coming with me?’

  Bright wrinkled her nose. ‘I won’t if you don’t mind, dear. I’ve had enough walking for one day. How long will you be? I was going to do lunch for twelve o’clock.’ Oriel said she would be back by then. ‘Don’t be late, this fish cost the earth. I don’t want it to boil away to nothing.’ As soon as Oriel closed the door Bright felt a prickle of anxiety and as usual in this situation rushed around the house seeking work to keep her mind occupied. At eleven-thirty she took the fish out of the pantry and slapped it onto a board in order to prepare it for lunch. Dead eyes stared back at her as she took up a knife. Cut yourself, said the voice. Oh, go away! Bugger off. She stared at the fish, imagining that those thick lips were gasping for breath. She knew what that felt like and began to gasp for air too. After all these years thinking she was all right the madness had returned. Do something! Anything to take your mind off it! Throw the knife away! I won’t, tis stupid, I won’t give in! With trembling hands she cut the head and tail off the fish, filleted it and put it in a pan. What would Noel say if he could see you now? Would he still want to marry you? No! How could you honestly marry anyone knowing you’re mad?

  The outer door opened. Oh thank God you’re back! At the sound of her daughter’s foot in the hall, Bright’s panic began to subside. A smiling face came round the door, then looked worried. ‘Mother, you’re as white as a ghost! Are you ill?’ However rare, she found these turns of her mother’s very disturbing after what Miss Bytheway had said all those years ago. Perhaps her mother was going mad again.

  Bright sighed and laughed. ‘No, I’m just passing out from hunger. Now you’re here I can get the fish on.’

  ‘Sit down, I’ll do the lunch.’ Somewhat reassured by her mother’s normal behaviour, Oriel pulled a chair away from the table.

  ‘No, I’ve only to put the pan on the hob.’ Bright dared not sit down. Only now did she begi
n to realize what a Godsend Miss Bytheway had been. How much more she would have suffered if granted the time to ponder on her madness; the work had given it less opportunity to manifest itself. Turning from the hob, she looked at her daughter who was now gazing out of the window to check on the progress of the spring vegetables. Pick up the knife and stick it in her. I won’t! Get away! Her daughter turned and smiled. The madness receded. But it was always there in the background: Bright’s own personal cross.

  Over the weekend they painted hardboiled eggs, something Bright had not done since she was a child, and on Easter Monday Noel took them for a motor car ride to Acomb Green where, along with dozens of schoolchildren, they rolled their painted eggs. Noel, wounded by Bright’s rejection but not totally overthrown, had continued to call at the house in Fulford Road, often taking her out for dinner or to the theatre. In view of the fact that she had turned down his proposal he had decided not to parade her before his mother, seeing this as an unnecessary ordeal. This innocent creature wouldn’t last two minutes with Mrs Scaum. He smiled at the shouts of glee as Bright and Oriel followed their eggs down the incline, holding up their skirts in order not to trip, faces laughing beneath the extravagant Easter bonnets with their ribbons and flowers.

  ‘Mine won’t crack!’ Bright called to Noel, holding the undamaged egg to show him, then throwing it down time after time, laughing and giggling almost hysterically.

  Eventually the egg did fracture and she and Oriel came to sit by Noel on the tartan rug. ‘This is dreadful!’ Bright wore a guilty smile as she said it. ‘All those poor men at the Front and here I am having the time of my life.’ She began to pick the shell from the egg.

  ‘The war’s not exactly any of your doing, is it?’ Noel was more thoughtful than usual, distant even. Bright glanced at him, still picking at her egg. Oriel did the same.

  ‘I know, but I feel as if I ought to be doing more for the war effort. It’s just that, well, I’ll be honest, Noel, I’m sick of work and it isn’t as if there’s a shortage of volunteers. But people make ye feel guilty, ye know? Like, I was in the shop the other day and these women were going on about the Rebellion in Dublin and looking at me – cause they know I’m Irish – as if it’s my fault! I mean I didn’t do the shooting did I? I’ve never even been to Dublin. Doesn’t stop ye feeling guilty though, does it?’ She looked at Noel again. ‘You’re very pensive today.’

  ‘Am I? Sorry.’ Buttock numb from the hard ground, Noel changed the position of his white trousered legs, his eyes gazing at the crowds of squealing children upon the Green but not actually seeing them. ‘I was thinking about the poor devils who were ferried in by ambulance last night.’ He now helped out regularly at the Military Hospital which was just down the road from where Bright lived.

  ‘Yes, I saw there were quite a few ambulances when I came back from Mass.’ Bright had finished peeling the egg and examined it. The white surface had taken up a hint of dye from the paint.

  He nodded. ‘We’ve almost run out of beds, not to mention that we’re run off our feet. We could do with more volunteers.’

  ‘Well, don’t look at me,’ exclaimed Oriel. ‘I’m not volunteering just to have it flung back in my face.’ She bit into her hardboiled egg. Bright and Noel exchanged glances, and nothing more was said.

  * * *

  Noel was kept so busy by the casualties of war that he did not find the time to call on Bright again for another two weeks. By way of apology, and also as decoration for her gown, he brought a posy of violets which she wore when they went out dancing, though the evening’s enjoyment was curtailed when Bright saw how tired the doctor was and insisted that he take her home.

  Oriel had gone to bed early and so Noel took up Bright’s invitation of cocoa. The act of making it reminded her of something she had read in the evening paper. ‘Did you see in the Press that one of the Rowntree boys has refused to fight?’ She sounded indignant. ‘Well, this is the last tin of their cocoa I’m buying.’

  Tired as he was, Noel showed amusement at her innocence. Then his expression changed and he looked at her in a strange way.

  ‘What is it?’ She touched her breast self-consciously.

  ‘I didn’t really want to tell you yet… oh well, I’ve joined up myself.’

  ‘Oh, no! And here’s me ranting on about conscientious objectors. But surely you don’t have to go – what made you do it?’

  ‘Some idiotic notion of patriotism.’ Fighting back a yawn, Noel accepted the mug of cocoa. ‘I got carried away seeing all those poor devils arriving at the hospital without arms and legs and like the mad impulsive fool that I am I went and signed my name on the dotted line. I rather wish I hadn’t now. Still, it won’t be so bad as for some. I can tell you I sympathize with that Rowntree chap. I wouldn’t relish shooting people.’

  Bright had not looked upon it quite like this. She remained quietly thoughtful.

  ‘Luckily my skills prevent that,’ added Noel, tasting the cocoa then putting it aside to cool. ‘I’ve joined the Medical Corps. I know I’m always grumbling about sick people but I’d rather deal with them than blast holes in some poor German, not to mention being unwilling to have my own posterior riddled with shrapnel.’

  ‘Oh don’t, I can’t bear it!’ Bright squashed her cheeks with her hands. The war had suddenly become personal.

  Noel looked pained. ‘I don’t want to leave you, Bright.’

  ‘I don’t want you to go either,’ she answered earnestly.

  ‘I don’t suppose…’

  ‘Please.’ Bright knew what he was about to ask and reached out to cover his lips with her fingers. ‘You’re my dearest friend, Noel, be happy with that.’

  Noel could always summon humour. ‘I’d hoped to make you feel sorry for me by telling you I was going to war.’ When she looked alert he hastened to dissuade her from the wrong assumption. ‘Oh no, it wasn’t an invention, I really am going.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Next week.’

  ‘So soon? I expect your mother’s upset.’

  ‘I haven’t told her yet. She’s distraught enough at the inflated price of bread.’ Unable to prevent a yawn, Noel sat upright and apologized, leaving his unfinished mug of cocoa on the table. ‘I’d better go or we’ll have folk gossiping about us and that won’t do.’ He ground his knuckles into his eye sockets. ‘There’s a show on Tuesday evening, will you accompany me?’

  ‘You’re sure you won’t be too tired?’

  ‘Don’t rub it in!’ He forced a laugh. ‘I promise I won’t fall asleep.’

  ‘Then I’d love to.’ Bright went with him, turning down the gaslamp before she opened the door to the street where traffic to and from the barracks was in constant flow. ‘Noel, have ye seen anything of Nat lately?’ When the doctor said he hadn’t she looked distant. ‘I was just wondering if he’s been called up.’

  ‘Shouldn’t think so if he’s married.’ You cruel sod, why don’t you put her out of her misery, he asked himself? You still won’t face it will you? You just can’t bear to see them together.

  * * *

  Oriel came home from work on Tuesday evening rather subdued. She had just met her father’s new ladyfriend whom he was taking out this evening. Quite why it should bother her she wasn’t sure. Maybe it was the fact that Olive was barely older than herself, or then again it might be just that she hated seeing Nat enjoying himself. Either way, she must wipe this expression off her face or Mother would be curious. She leaned her bicycle against the back wall before giving her divided skirt a brisk shake. The modest form of transport was not her first choice; Oriel would have liked to buy a motor car, but it would have looked very odd if she had rolled up to work in one of those, and besides, people were being urged to save fuel.

  She entered through the scullery door. Bright had the sleeves of her best dress rolled up and an apron protecting the rest as she mashed the potatoes. ‘You’re looking tired, dear. Had a busy day?’

  Oriel took off her gloves and unp
inned her straw hat. ‘Same as usual. Is Noel coming to dinner?’ Her mother was preparing far too much food just for two.

  ‘Yes, he’s just down the road doing his bit.’ Noel was at the Military Hospital. ‘I hope he’s here soon or this’ll go cold. Then we’re going to the theatre.’

  ‘Ah yes, I forgot about that.’ Oriel fell into a chair. ‘Leaving your child alone again for the third time in a week.’

  ‘Don’t say that!’ Bright looked guilty.

  ‘I’m pulling your leg! You don’t think I want to play gooseberry, d’you? Make the most of it, that’s what I say.’ Oriel was aware that Noel was leaving in a matter of days. ‘Don’t worry about me, I’ll just stay home and rake out the cinders.’

  ‘Will ye give over!’ Bright swiped at her daughter.

  The doctor arrived then and all sat down to dinner. Afterwards, leaving Oriel to do the washing up, her mother and Noel left for the theatre.

  Acting in all innocence, Nat was at that moment on his way to the same venue. Living within the city walls meant that he was in easy range of any amenity and so this evening in early May he went to the theatre on foot, wearing Olive on his arm. There was no longer ulterior motive in Nat’s attentions towards her. His only aim tonight was to enjoy himself. Last week had heralded conscription for all men whether married or single, so removing the shield of matrimony. It was now only a case of when rather than if he would be called up. Initially, he had contemplated breaking the news to Olive that there would be no wedding, but it was her birthday soon and even he was not callous enough to inflict disappointment at such a time. Besides, he might even marry her after all. She was a good sort. He turned his neck to look at her now, receiving a smile.

  At every turn there was stark reminder that he could soon be off to war: men in uniform, military vehicles thundering up and down, newspaper placards bearing words of doom, young boys who had ‘dug in’ amongst a pile of rubble on a demolition site to mimic trench warfare, their noisy imitation of machine guns following Nat along the street. As if this were not enough, Olive had to bring it up too.