A Sense of Duty

by Sheelagh Kelly

  But the tears were not merely for herself. Through the mist she reviewed her past life. She had been thinking about that a lot lately too. Things she had done. People she had hurt. If only she could meet those people now and make amends.

  For no apparent reason, the little boy jumped to his feet and galloped indoors. Squinting, Sarah’s eyes followed him and in doing so glimpsed another figure coming up the street, seeing not a tall robust young woman but a vulnerable three-year-old child.

  For the first time in her life, Kit saw her sister-in-law’s face light up in a smile of welcome. It rather took her by surprise. She continued along the row, waiting for the smile to fade, but it didn’t.

  ‘Kit, it’s good to see you back – and you’re looking a lot better, cariad.’

  Wishing she could return the compliment, Kit smiled back. ‘I feel it. Sorry I didn’t let you know where I was. I just had to get away.’

  Sarah reached out and patted the other’s arm that was still encased in mourning garb, this gesture telling Kit that she had no need to explain, Sarah knew that feeling well. Nor was there any need to say Kit would never get over the death of her child, would just learn to survive the best she could, to get on with life. The glance they exchanged was sufficient to convey this knowledge.

  Kit thought then how much worse it must have been for Sarah to lose her adult daughter, having steered Beata through the dangerous years of childhood, only to suffer the cruellest of partings.

  Aghast at how ill the other looked, Kit asked if she could get her anything.

  ‘Yes, you can make a pot of tea and bring it out here with another chair. It’s a shame to waste the sunshine. Doing my old bones a world of good, it is. Pity there’s nothing more to look at than that wall though.’ She indicated the boundary of the graveyard, wherein lay both their daughters. Before her sister-in-law disappeared, she added, ‘Hang on, Kit. While you’re waiting for the kettle to boil, there’s a bottle on the sideboard, fetch that too, will you? And a spoon.’

  Kit went to put the kettle on and waited for it to boil, in the meantime placing another chair besides that of Sarah, then going to fetch the required spoon and bottle, which she found contained a laudanum mixture. ‘Is the pain very bad?’ she asked softly.

  ‘Bearable, with this.’ Sarah pulled the spoon from her mouth and handed it back to Kit, thanking her.

  In time Kit sat down, handing her sister-in-law one of the cups she carried. Acceptance was delayed by a bout of coughing.

  ‘Roland died while you were away.’ Sarah dabbed at her lips with a rag and took possession of the cup, referring to Flora’s husband. ‘An aneurysm, it was – he collapsed at work.’

  ‘Oh, God!’ Kit’s brow puckered. ‘I’ll have to go and visit t’poor lass.’

  ‘Don’t bother, she’ll be here on Sunday.’

  Kit nodded. ‘How’s she coping?’

  ‘Well, you just get on with it, don’t you?’ Her sister-in-law balanced the cup of tea on her lap and tilted her pallid face to the sun. ‘So, where’ve you been all this while?’

  ‘London.’ Kit did likewise with her cup and saucer, waiting for the tea to cool.

  ‘With … ?’

  ‘No, he’s not interested in me any more. No, I just stayed with a friend.’ Kit sipped at the tea. It was too hot. She stared thoughtfully at the churchyard wall that was blackened by coal dust, recalling the months she had spent with Philip, wondering who had bought his various depictions of her. ‘Well, a sort of friend. But after a while I decided it was time to come home.’ She threw a guarded glance at Sarah. ‘You’re not going to be too pleased when I tell you.’

  Sarah turned her emaciated head. The look in Kit’s eyes told all. ‘Oh, Kit, you’re not … again?’

  Kit gave a guilty nod.

  Sarah gasped, then coughed into her rag. ‘Is it something they put in the water down there? Every time you go down to London you come back in an interesting condition. Oh well, it’s no use me ranting on, there’s nothing we can do about it now. Your brother will be none too pleased though.’

  The lack of condemnation from this quarter was totally unexpected. ‘I thought you’d be really furious.’

  Sarah gave a weak shrug. ‘’Twould be a waste of breath, wouldn’t it?’ She swallowed a mouthful of tea, then sat for a while thinking. After a long silence, she asked pensively, ‘Did you love either of them?’

  Taken aback, Kit confessed. ‘No, not really. It just happened.’

  ‘It must be wonderful mustn’t it? To have had one great love in your life. What I’d give to have a mad passionate affair before I die.’ Sarah’s black eyes burned intensely.

  Kit blushed, amazed, not least because Sarah’s comment related to her own brother. How would Monty feel if he knew this?

  ‘If I had my time again I might choose to be irresponsible once in a while.’ One side of Sarah’s mouth was tweaked into a wistful smile. ‘But there’s not much chance of that, is there?’

  Kit looked at the haggard face with its blue circles beneath the eyes, and was imbued with deep guilt for ruining this woman’s life.

  ‘Don’t look so glum,’ teased Sarah. ‘It’s not your fault.’

  ‘Well, it is in a way. If you hadn’t had us to look after—’

  ‘I might have been run over by a train. Who knows what might have been? There’s no one to blame.’ There was once, came the private thought, but not any more. There came a time when one had to stop blaming others. ‘As you said yourself, it just happened.’ She finished her tea. ‘So, what do you intend to do?’

  Kit said she was not entirely sure, it all depended on the family’s reaction. ‘I’d like to have the baby here, but I don’t want to be a constant embarrassment to you.’

  Sarah gave a snort. ‘I couldn’t care less what people say. Stay if you want.’

  Though thankful for this unexpected ally, Kit said she would wait until Monty had been consulted. He might feel very differently.

  * * *

  Monty did feel differently. One mistake was allowable; two, it seemed, were unforgivable. He had also been nurturing another complaint in Kit’s absence. Probyn had let slip that his aunt had taken him to Spain. Had Kit not sprung this on them now, Monty would not have been so hard on her for she had suffered greatly, but exasperated beyond endurance he subjected her to a vociferous scolding, not only for endangering his son on such a voyage but for showing Probyn a life that he could never hope to emulate. ‘And now this! Isn’t it enough that ’ee shamed us once? My God, girl, ’ee’d better do some praying ’cause you’ll never be redeemed.’

  Gwen seized her turn. ‘I’ve no sympathy for you either, Kit!’ She mopped her perspiring brow. ‘It’s downright irresponsible. Don’t you ever think of anybody but yourself?’

  ‘I didn’t do it on purpose.’ With the younger family members out enjoying the sunshine, Kit suffered the full brunt of her siblings’ disapproval.

  ‘Is that right? Then why wouldn’t you let us get rid of all those baby things after Beata died? You knew exactly what you were going to do.’

  ‘If you mean I’m trying to replace her, that’s just cruel and plain silly!’ Gone were the days when Kit would sit and listen to such nonsense. ‘I’m going home.’ This she did, before they caught the glint of tears. How could anyone imagine that she could substitute one child for another? As if to illustrate the anathema of this, she did not go directly home but went instead to the graveyard where she laid flowers upon her baby’s resting place, silently weeping in the bright afternoon.

  Back at Savile Row, Gwen was unrepentant. ‘Bain’t no good pretending we’re glad about her behaviour else she’ll think we condone it.’

  Monty shook his head. ‘Oh, don’t mistake my silence for approval! I’m just beaten for words.’

  Flora never disagreed with Gwen, her contribution emerging from a black mourning bonnet. ‘You’d think she would’ve known better after the first time. Hasn’t she ever heard of the word no?’ />
  Normally so benevolent, Charity sided with the popular view. ‘And there’s poor Amelia and Albert would love a child, and our Kit churning them out like sausages.’

  ‘Well, I reckon it’s time we intervened,’ decided Gwen.

  ‘In what way?’ Sarah coughed with great effort into a handkerchief. ‘Show her the door?’

  ‘My goodness, no! Every time she goes out of it she comes back expecting. No, I’d as soon lock her up. I just mean we have to make her see sense. What sort of a life is this baby going to have? You saw the way folk treated Kit when they thought she’d let the first one die. It’s not fair on anybody, least of all the child.’

  ‘Well, things have calmed down now,’ said Sarah, wiping her pale lips. ‘I doubt she’ll have to face that sort of violence again – not that folk will be any kinder.’

  ‘Exactly, which is why I think we ought to persuade Kit to hand the baby over to Amelia,’ said Gwen, looking pleased with herself. ‘That’d solve everyone’s problem.’

  Sarah looked at Monty, both showing doubt. ‘I don’t think Kit would be amenable to that.’

  ‘Maybe not at the moment. But, as I said, if we can talk some sense into her, make her see what she’s doing is wicked and it would be in the interests of the child to give it two parents …’

  Monty gave a thoughtful nod. ‘Mm, you got a point.’

  ‘She won’t budge,’ replied his wife with certainty.

  ‘Why’re you sticking up for her all of a sudden?’ asked Monty. ‘She never did anything right in your eyes before.’

  Sarah’s magnanimity did not extend to her husband, who seemed intent on irritating her more than ever these days. ‘I’m not saying she’s right or wrong. I’m just saying you’ll have your work cut out, and don’t expect me to waste my breath persuading her. Now, is there anybody else’s life you’d like to put to rights before we have tea?’

  ‘Sit there,’ commanded Gwen, ‘I’ll make it.’

  ‘No, you won’t.’ Gravely ill as she felt, Sarah dragged herself from the chair. ‘Long as I’m alive, home rule still applies in this house.’

  ‘Oh, don’t get our Gwen on that subject,’ wailed Charity. ‘She bent my ear all the way here.’ Parliament had been dissolved over the issue, making its sitting one of the shortest in Victoria’s reign.

  ‘I can’t see why they don’t just give it to ’em,’ said Gwen, referring to the Irish, ‘they’re nothing but trouble anyway. We’d be better off without them.’

  Monty opposed this view. ‘Do that, start breaking Britain up into bits, and where will it stop? They’d all want their little corner of earth then. Next thing you know, that’d be the end of our Empire.’

  Gwen said she supposed her brother was right. ‘I wonder what Her Majesty makes of it all. Our newspaper said they’re trying to persuade her to come out of hiding for her Golden Jubilee next year, says it’ll help all these unemployed that’re going round causing trouble and ruining the country. I don’t see how. Can’t say I blame her for staying indoors, I don’t know what the world’s coming to.’

  ‘I wonder if she’ll get up to Leeds,’ mused Charity. ‘I’d love to go and see her.’

  ‘There’s one thing certain,’ added Gwen, ‘I’ll bet she don’t have so much trouble from her family as we have. Wonder what Amelia will say when she hears about Kit?’

  ‘It’s not a good idea to tell her about your plan just yet,’ advised Charity, the others agreeing. ‘Don’t want to give poor lass false hope.’

  Gwen was blasé. ‘Won’t be false hope. We got five whole months before it’s born. I’m sure if we all band together we can make Kit see sense.’

  * * *

  Nothing made sense to Kit at the moment. She had two houses and over a thousand pounds in the bank, but with no idea of direction she might as well be a pauper. The knowledge that most of her confusion stemmed from losing Beata did nothing to make the way ahead any easier. To be sure the new child would restore some stability to her life, but robbed of such purpose once, and taunted by the fortune-teller’s prophecy, she had no reason to doubt that it could happen again. How could she make plans when she did not know how long her baby would live? With such funds at her disposal she had no need to work, yet how else was she to make time pass? One thing was sure: her days of dalliance were over. Her only bout of socializing took place with Mr Popplewell or within her own family. Kit feared she would never recoup her zest for fun, though she tried to present herself as the same old Aunt Kit to her nephews and nieces, disallowing them to glimpse the fear and uncertainty in her heart.

  During the school holidays, she was to organize the kind of trips and picnics that had thrilled in the past, though with only three of her brothers’ children still of school age, the picnics were quieter affairs than in the old days, and at thirteen, Probyn showed signs that he would much rather be mixing with his peers.

  He had even turned down his aunt’s most recent invitation to accompany her to Castleford that morning, which rather hurt her – though she did not say.

  However, conscience must have got the better of him, for when Kit returned from her trip he was waiting in the sunshine outside the Robin Hood’s Well to meet the omnibus, an inflated pig’s bladder in his hands. Accepting her invitation to a cup of tea and a bun, he walked alongside her, dribbling the pig’s bladder with his boots.

  ‘Will you be going to your house in York again soon, Aunt?’ came his casual enquiry. ‘Only, if you like, I could come with you.’

  Kit smiled, fully aware that it was not her house that so attracted him but the fact that York was a garrison town. ‘Well, I was thinking of putting it up for let.’ Sensing his disappointment, she added, ‘But it’ll want a good bottoming first.’

  ‘I’ll help you! Can we go tomorrow?’

  Even in the knowledge that there was ulterior motive for his voluntary services, Kit was pleased to have his company. Under that manly facade there remained the little boy who had gained her lasting affection. ‘Tomorrow? That’s a bit sooner than I intended. Not much fun cleaning – are you sure you wouldn’t rather be with your pals?’

  ‘Oh, they’re off to Leeds tomo—’ he broke off, looking guilty.

  Kit laughed and said tomorrow would be suitable for her. She had been plucking up the courage to go and visit Amelia anyway, to let her know about the baby.

  * * *

  As luck would have it, their arrival at York station coincided with that of a contingent of soldiers, the platform a mass of scarlet uniforms. Though inconvenienced herself, Kit smiled fondly at her nephew’s awe-struck face and suggested they sit on a bench and watch for a while as they wouldn’t be able to fight their way through till the soldiers had departed.

  Probyn was happy to do so, his mouth agape and his eyes taking in every detail.

  After a while, he said thoughtfully, ‘You know me father?’

  ‘Is it that fella with the ginger hair?’ asked Kit. ‘I think I’ve met him.’

  ‘D’you think you can persuade him to let me go in t’army?’

  ‘Your dad never places great value on anything I have to say, love.’ Kit had tried to intervene before. Monty had replied that no son of his was joining the army. ‘But he’s not an ogre. I know he won’t force you to go down the pit if you can get something better.’

  ‘Where else is there to work round our way? Apart from shops.’ Probyn heaved a sigh – then was suddenly alert as the soldiers were mustered. ‘Eh, they’re off! Come on, Aunt.’ He jumped up and dragged at her arm.

  ‘You’re not expecting me to march alongside them?’ At her nephew’s eager straining face she fished into her bag and gave him a key. ‘Here, you go on ahead! I’ll call in on your Aunt Amelia and see you at home later.’ Making use of this opportunity to visit her sister alone, she smiled to herself at the sight of Probyn marching out of the station after the colourful troop, then took a hansom cab to the Mount.

  As yet ignorant of Kit’s expectant state, Amelia tre
ated her kindly, though made no reference to her sister’s recent loss lest it be construed as a thoughtless remark, but allowed the sympathy to show in her eyes. The current hot weather had forced Kit to emerge from her heavy mourning attire. The grey cotton dress was subtle enough, but Amelia deemed the straw hat too flamboyant, piled with huge loops of ribbon and white daisies that spilled over from the brim and dangled in a strand down the back. Still, at least she could be grateful it was flowers and not a vulture or one of Kit’s usual monstrosities.

  Accepting a glass of lemonade, Kit sat at the table and said she had brought their nephew with her but had left him following the soldiers through town. ‘He only wanted me to march alongside! I’ve been accused of being many things, but never a camp follower.’ She smiled. ‘Poor lad, he’s desperate to go in the army.’

  ‘Is he coming here afterwards?’ Amelia sat opposite.

  ‘No, I’ll bring him to see you after we’ve done our cleaning. I’m putting the house up for let. I don’t want to sell it, but it seems daft allowing it to stand empty.’

  ‘Why don’t you come and live in it, then? Isn’t that what you bought it for?’

  ‘Yes, but things have changed since then.’ Kit sighed and gazed into her glass. ‘Truth is, I don’t really know where I want to be at the moment.’

  Amelia gave an understanding nod, in a similar quandary herself. Her employers were planning to move to America early next year and had asked their butler and cook to accompany them, but it was a big move. Amelia’s initial reaction had been to turn it down. She was about to convey this to her sister but was prevented by the appearance of Albert.

  Kit looked up as her brother-in-law came in and smiled a greeting. ‘Hello, Albert. Is she still giving you a regular beating?’

  ‘Eeh, she’s a tyrant,’ he joked, then handed over the letter that had arrived with the afternoon post, and leaned on the table. ‘Have you told Kit our news?’