Her daughter’s mouth fell right open. The acid drop had left a yellow patch on her tongue. Thomasin’s eyes became glued to it as the acid was transferred to Erin’s speech. ‘Honest?! That’s a good one when we’re talking about the most dishonest, the most treacherous …’
‘Oh give over!’ Thomasin cut her off with a tired sigh. ‘I’m not getting into an argument at bedtime, it’s bad enough trying to sleep with your father lying dead next door.’
Erin showed instant and total remorse and collapsed against her mother. ‘Oh, Mam, I’m sorry… you’re the last person I wanted to suffer.’
‘Then just get your grievances sorted out,’ commanded the old lady. ‘I’ve got my son back, Erin. After twenty-six years of thinking he was dead I’ve got him back and I don’t want him to grow as sick as I am of all these bitchy remarks of yours and clear off back to America. By all means give him a good thumping if you must, I’d be the first to agree he deserves it, but then let it lie. All right? Now I’m off to bed.’ Her severity evaporated, but she was still firm as she kissed her daughter and pressed her from the room. ‘Goodnight.’ Erin turned and walked to her own bedchamber, tears streaming down her face.
5
On Wednesday morning, at her first opportunity, Dusty asked Thomasin if it would be in order to go and visit the children.
Her mother-in-law could see no harm in this. ‘But you’d better take a note from me, otherwise the girl who’s looking after them won’t let you past the front door. I think they once had some trouble from a parent and they have to be careful who they let in.’ She looked for her spectacles, then scribbled the note and handed it to Dusty. ‘I’d be grateful if you didn’t say anything about Pat in front of the children; Erin doesn’t want Belle to hear the news that way. If you get the chance, tell Sally in private and make sure she keeps it a secret.’ Her eyes scoured Dusty’s gown. ‘You’d better wear something else or it’ll be obvious to the older children. Go on! It won’t harm for one morning and I’m sure you’ve got plenty of nice outfits you’d rather wear. And tell Dickie to take that armband off too.’
‘Will ye ever look at those two!’ exclaimed an outraged Erin after Dickie and his wife had visited the drawing room before taking their leave. ‘Dressed up like a brace of pheasant and Dad not even buried! That must be the shortest period of mourning in history – he’s not even wearing an armband!’
Amelia and Feen exchanged smirks, but receiving a sharp nudge from their mother, bent low over the handkerchiefs on which they were embroidering a black border.
‘That’s because I asked him not to,’ said Thomasin. ‘They’re going to Belle’s house. I told them what a fine job she’s done with the children and they said they’d like to see for themselves.’ No need to tell Erin about the adoptions just yet, she decided. ‘I thought it better if they weren’t both encased in black from head to toe; the children might ask questions. You said yourself you don’t want Belle to find out from someone else.’
Erin was making no concessions. ‘I’ll bet he didn’t need much encouragement, nor her!’
‘Liz, would you and the girls take Paddy out for a little walk,’ instructed Josie, before any more uncivil comment could be made. In dutiful order, the four girls collected up their embroidery silks and, with Paddy in tow, left the room. Once the door sectioned them off from the others, Elizabeth told Amelia to take Paddy up to get his coat. The youngest girl demanded to know what the others were going to do and was told not to argue. Amelia retorted that if they didn’t let her listen she would tell. Elizabeth gave a heavy sigh, then said to Paddy, ‘See how fast you can run and get your coat, Pad,’ and watched him scamper up the staircase before turning on her youngest sister. ‘You spiteful cat!’
‘No, I’m not!’ Amelia was more like a disgrunded beaver, her teeth far too big for her mouth. ‘You’re always leaving me out. Why were you three allowed to go and see Grandad and not me? It’s not fair, I’ve never seen a dead body.’
‘Stupid child, it was certainly nothing to enjoy! Anyway, shove a sock in it or we’re going to miss everything.’
Bad temper turned to giggles as the girls pressed their ears to the woodwork; Aunt Erin could be relied upon to provide some entertainment for the next five minutes or so.
‘Erin, we all know your feelings, so would you please try not to be so free with them in front of the girls.’ Sonny’s reproof was backed by his wife.
‘Don’t ye think it’s as well that they’re educated against such rogues?’ snapped Erin defensively. ‘Apart from any moral aspect, he’s corrupting both their manners and their speech, coming in here with his American talk and his cursing!’
‘I’ve heard you chuck a few buggers and bloodies about in your time, Erin Teale,’ scoffed her brother.
‘Eh, just modify your language now,’ Josie tapped his arm. ‘Those daughters of yours might be listening in the hall.’
Sonny raised his voice. ‘Not if they don’t want a hiding, they won’t.’
The young women scattered and missed the conclusion of the argument.
‘Well,’ said Erin tritely, ‘he might not know how to conduct polite conversation but he’s lost none of his old wiles, has he? He can still twist you daft eejits round his finger – but!’ She staved off her mother’s complaint. ‘I shall bite my tongue and not upset any of ye … only you just see who’s right.’
* * *
‘I reckon somebody’s put a curse on this blessed thing,’ grunted Dickie, on his eighth attempt to jerk the Daimler into life. ‘The engine must be frozen solid.’
‘It doesn’t take much guessing who’s responsible,’ muttered his wife, hopping from one patent leather boot to the other and clapping her gloved hands. Under Erin’s cold scowl she had felt like a criminal in her blue fitted coat and feathered hat – and in no way could it be considered disrespectful; it was a very dark blue and she had chosen black accessories.
‘Balls to it.’ Dickie ignored his wife’s objection to the vulgarity, straightened and tossed the starting handle down with a clatter. ‘We’ll have to walk. Unless ye want me to ask if I can borrow Dad’s car?’ He buttoned his Chesterfield and picked up the walking cane that had been propped against the car.
‘Don’t bother.’ Dusty set off ahead of him, eager to see the children. ‘It’s cold enough without having to face the Ice Queen again. Come on, it isn’t that far, and we’ve wasted enough time already.’
Peeping around the curtain that had been drawn in respect for her grandfather, Feen leaned on her elbows and thought dreamily to herself, gosh, he’s so handsome. I can’t understand why Aunt Erin doesn’t like him. Aunt Dusty’s so lucky … So intently did she watch him, that her eyes blurred out of focus. But even when he’d gone, his image remained.
* * *
As Thomasin had predicted, they did need the note to gain entry to the terraced property in Lawrence Street, but on being informed of their identity Sally, the young woman in charge, became less hostile and led them down a passage into the back parlour.
‘We’re on holiday from America,’ Dusty told her, surveying the interior which was shabby in comparison with the one they had just left, though an attempt had been made to brighten it with a pretty floral wallcovering. ‘Mrs Feeney said we should come and visit Miss Teale’s children as she might not be back from Africa before we have to go home ourselves.’
‘I’m sure you’re very welcome, Mrs Feeney.’ Sally, a fair-haired, fresh-complexioned girl, lifted a pile of ironing from a leather sofa. ‘They’re having their lessons at the moment. All except two of them who’ve been a bit off-colour lately. They’re in the kitchen, helping me.’ She pulled a face, making Dusty smile. ‘Oh, let me take your coats.’ She hung these in the passage, calling, ‘Do please sit down! I’d better just go and see what they’re up to else they’ll be eating too many currants.’
Dusty stopped her hastily and seated herself on the old- fashioned sofa. ‘Er, before you do … we have some bad news.’ S
he glanced at Dickie, but it was obvious by his preoccupation with Sally’s figure that he wasn’t going to volunteer the information. ‘My mother-in-law would like it keeping from the children if possible. It’s Miss Teale’s grandfather … I’m afraid he died on Monday evening.’ While the other expressed her sorrow, Dusty repositioned a tapestry cushion and leaned back on it, adding, ‘Miss Teale’s mother would like to break the news herself, so we’d appreciate it if…’
‘Oh, I won’t say a word,’ vouched Sally. ‘Has it been in the paper?’ Dusty told her it would be appearing tonight. ‘I only hope no one else blabs it out before Belle gets home, then. Oh dear, it’s terrible …’ She returned to her senses. ‘Anyway, I’d better just see what those little ’uns are up to. Excuse me.’ She rushed off.
Dusty chafed her husband. ‘By rights that should’ve been your job.’
‘What? Oh … yeah, thanks for doing it for me darlin’.’ Dick sighed. ‘How can I tell folk he’s dead when I don’t even believe it myself?’ He began to view his surroundings with a critical eye. Dusty followed his example.
‘It’s not what I expected, is it you?’ she whispered to her husband. ‘A bit cramped for so many children. And did you hear the maid refer to Belle by her first name? I thought that was a bit chee …’ The comment was lopped as Sally reappeared.
Dusty greeted the woman’s companions, one a boy, the other a girl, wondering if either of these could be ‘hers’. The little girl, though not exactly pretty, was quite attractive with alert brown eyes and similar coloured hair. The boy, though, had a pasty face and features that not even the kindest heart could call attractive – still, he had been poorly, the maid had said.
Sally introduced the two as Julia and Frederick. She noticed that Dickie was studying the boy’s chin which was a mass of yellow pustules and scabs. ‘Don’t let him come too close, he’s got impetigo.’ Dickie made a distasteful move backwards on the sofa. The information did not seem to deter his wife who bent nearer and asked if they were good, to which Sally replied, ‘When they feel like it.’
Upon her last word, there came the high burble of more children from along the passage and in seconds they spilled into the room gawping at the visitors whom Sally introduced as relations of Aunt Belle. Another woman entered, a rather mousey sort, too mousey for Dickie to spare her more than a glance as she apologised for intruding. This, it turned out, was the person whom Belle had hired as tutor for the children in her absence. When she had gone, Sally asked if the couple were staying for lunch. They refused, but said they would accept a cup of tea and, while she went off to make it, began to chat to the children.
There was a girl on the verge of womanhood who appeared to be the eldest. Dusty asked her name. Anna told her, adding that she was thirteen. The American woman asked how many children there were altogether. Anna replied, ‘Nine … I think. I lose count, some aren’t with us very long. These,’ she prodded two of the others, ‘are my sisters. My brother Eddie’s still busy with his work. He’s hoping to go to university.’
Obviously these were not the children up for adoption; Thomasin had told Dusty about the four older children whom Belle intended to keep. She directed her attention to the ones who might be eligible.
‘Are we coming to live with you?’ It was the little boy, Frederick,
‘No,’ said Dickie immediately. Dusty scolded him with her eyes for the abruptness of his tone and he tried to make amends with a forced smile. ‘We’re just visiting,’ he explained to the unattractive child.
‘Oh.’ Frederick looked him over from head to toe, then spoke to the curly-headed lady with the funny face. He had once seen a picture of an Egyptian cat-god with great green slanting eyes; this was what the visitor resembled, but Frederick decided that he liked her all the same. ‘Aunt Belle said we might be going to live with somebody else; a real mother and father.’
So this was one of them. Dusty regarded him with new eyes. ‘Oh, and would you like that?’ When he said yes, she looked pleased and was even more so when Julia said she was of the same mind. ‘So … you must be Frederick’s sister?’ She was surprised to receive a nod from this highly-strung little creature who never seemed to be still.
‘And her.’ Frederick jabbed a thumb.
‘Does her have a name?’ asked Dusty lightly.
‘He means Faith,’ provided Anna, attempting to press forward the small girl who had been using her as a shield.
Dusty smiled encouragement and Faith, thumb in mouth, came a little way out from her cover, her free hand clutching nervously at Anna’s skirt like an animal which has been parted from its mother too early. She was as different again from her siblings, having blue eyes and very wispy blonde hair through which her scalp could be seen. Dusty asked, ‘And how old are you, love?’ Faith mouthed something behind her thumb and Dusty laughed softly. ‘I can’t hear you. Come stand by me and take your thumb out, I won’t hurt you.’
‘She never lets go of my dress,’ explained Anna. Dusty laughed again and said she must let go of it sometime. ‘No, never. Except when I change into my nightie, then she holds onto that instead. She’s frightened of being left on her own.’
‘Oh.’ Dusty lost her amused expression and held out her hand to the girl. ‘Won’t you come and hold onto my skirt instead? Come on, it’s nice and soft. Feel.’ With a little more coaxing the child dropped Anna’s skirt and made a grab for Dusty’s. ‘There, now take your thumb out and tell me again how old you are.’
‘Four.’ Faith’s hands screwed the material of Dusty’s gown.
‘I’m eight,’ announced Frederick, stepping closer in an obvious attempt to displace his sister who squeaked her alarm. When the woman lifted Faith onto her knee he turned his attention to Dickie who virtually ignored him, centring his charm on Julia and asking how old she was. He received the answer seven. The child held up a doll which had a bandage around its head. ‘Look, she’s got a poorly head.’
Dick assumed concern. ‘Gee, that looks serious – what’s wrong with it?’
Julia beheld him as if he were stupid. ‘I’ve just told you, it’s poorly.’
‘Oh, my apologies,’ Dickie looked at his wife and pulled a face, Julia then told him that Father Christmas had brought it for her. ‘I’d’ve thought he coulda brought ye one that wasn’t so sick,’ replied the man. ‘What did the rest of ye get?’
The other children gave details of their gifts. Dusty, looking at the meagre decorations, felt pity for them; they probably wouldn’t have had much of a Christmas at the best of times and even less when Belle had gone off on her do-gooding expedition. What sort of woman set up an orphanage then deserted the children at the most crucial time?
But Anna offered unsolicited evidence to the contrary. ‘We’ve had a lovely Christmas. Usually we’re invited to Nan and Grandad Feeney’s for a party, but this year we went to tea with the Lord Mayor! It was spiffing. We made hundreds of friends and we all got new clothes.’
Dickie remarked that if nothing else Belle kept them all nicely dressed. His wife was not concerned with their clothes – these children could soon be hers! She returned to the most important issue. ‘And even though you’ve had such a lovely time here, you’re still keen to have a new mother and father?’
At this juncture, Sally served tea. ‘Oh, they aren’t bending your ear about their new mother and father, are they, Mrs Feeney?’ She sighed. ‘I don’t know, I wish Belle had never broached the question, they’ve been on and on about it all the time she’s been away.’ Dusty took the cup of tea from her and said they weren’t being a nuisance. ‘They’re always a nuisance,’ said Sally, at which there was a baby’s wail from an upstairs room. ‘And there’s another. Excuse me, I’ll have to go see to him.’
‘Oh, will you bring him down!’ Dusty called after her, then sipped her tea and spoke to Julia. ‘So, you have a baby living with you?’
As Julia’s mouth was occupied in ripping shreds from her fingernails – which were already bitten to the q
uick – Anna answered for the child. ‘Yes, someone brought him yesterday, his mother’s died. I forgot about him – that’s ten of us. Aunt Belle will have a surprise when she comes home from Africa.’
‘I’m sure she will,’ smiled Dusty. ‘I expect he’ll be wanting a new mother and father too.’
‘You dare,’ warned her husband under his breath.
‘Oh, Aunt Belle won’t have any difficulty in finding someone to take him,’ said Anna sagely. ‘We’ve had lots of babies here; they go quite quickly.’ She spoke as if referring to some commodity. ‘Though I don’t know if it’ll be so easy to get rid of Freddie and the girls.’
‘Oh, I’m sure there’ll be someone who’d love to be their mother and father,’ contradicted Dusty, rocking the child on her lap.
Anna remained pessimistic. ‘Nobody wanted the four of us. Aunt Belle wouldn’t split us up.’ The woman said that surely this was a good thing, but Anna added, ‘I don’t think I’d’ve minded if it meant having a proper mother and father.’
‘Are you going to take us?’ asked Frederick, with a thoughtful finger up his nostril.
‘I’ve told you,’ said Dickie in firm tone. ‘We’ve just come to inspect …’ He caught his wife’s disapproval. ‘I mean, visit you.’
The maid reappeared with the mewling baby, saying he was always hungry. Dusty put aside her cup and said eagerly, ‘I’ll feed him while you attend to your jobs.’ She kissed the small girl on her lap, relinquished her to Anna’s care, then held out her arms as a grateful maid handed over her burden and also a feeding bottle. Dusty cradled the tiny head to her breast and inserted the rubber teat in his mouth, laughing in soft delight as the baby ceased crying to suck greedily. ‘Oh, look at him, Dickie, isn’t he lovely?’
Dickie (Feeney Family Sagas Book 4) Page 10
