The Favourite Child

by Freda Lightfoot

  ‘Will there be anything else, miss?’ Tilly asked, still tearful from shock.

  ‘No thank you, Tilly. I’m most grateful for your help. Go and have your own breakfast now, and a nice cup of strong, sweet tea.’

  When the bedroom door had closed for the last time Bella drew a chair up to the bed and sat calmly upon it, folded her hands upon her lap and began to address the still figure lying prone beneath the bedclothes. ‘This may come as a surprise to you, Mother, but though you may fool the doctor, I am well aware that there is nothing whatsoever the matter with you.’ She paused, watching for any reaction but, apart from a sharpening of interest in the icy glare, there was none.

  ‘You see, I happened to return to your bedroom on one occasion. I forget quite why, but when I ventured further into the room I found, to my surprise, an empty bed and discovered you to be in the bathroom where you had presumably walked unaided. Oh, your back was towards the door so you didn’t see me but it was a most enlightening experience. As a result, I confess my sympathy has been somewhat clouded by this knowledge which, so far, I’ve managed to keep to myself.’

  The eyes now were riveted upon her face, blazing like hot coals against the pallor of cheeks hollowed from lack of sustenance. The mouth opened slightly then closed again, rather like a stranded fish seeking air. Not a sound came out.

  Bella continued in the same, calm tone. ‘Tomorrow is an important day for Edward. He is to marry the girl he loves. Whether Jinnie would be your choice, or even mine, though I happen to be rather fond of her, is quite beside the point. She is Edward’s choice. He wants Jinnie for his wife and I, for one, rejoice in his happiness. I shall make sure that I am present at my brother’s wedding in order to wish them both a long and happy life together. And today, Mother, is to be a very important day for you. Today you are to make a miraculous recovery.’

  Now a sound did come from the bed, spluttering, strangulated, outraged, unformed noises which bore no relation to any words Bella knew, or cared to translate.

  ‘Indeed, spurred on by your great desire to attend the imminent nuptials of your darling son, you will rise from your bed, take an excellent luncheon served at a table by the window here in your room, in order to renew your much depleted strength, and after a short afternoon nap you will walk, with suitable assistance for the sake of appearances, down the stairs to the parlour and take tea. Tomorrow, Mother dear, you will be seated in the front pew to witness your only son ‘getting spliced’, as dear Violet would say.’

  The outrage finally boiled over. ‘Never!’

  ‘Oh, I think you will discover that already you are beginning to feel much better; that this wasn’t a second seizure at all but a reversal of the first, and really your heart is quite sound.’ Bella got to her feet and quietly replaced the chair in the window embrasure. ‘Because should you suffer a further ‘relapse’, shall we say, then I will be forced to give a full and detailed account of the true nature of your ‘illness’ which we both appreciate would alienate Edward and drive him even further from your side.

  ‘Whatever you hoped to achieve by this foolish ploy, has failed utterly. I would go so far as to warn you, Mother, that if you don’t suffer a suitably swift and complete recovery, you could well end your days mouldering in this room visited by no one but Tilly until the end of your days.’

  The wedding ceremony was duly reported in the Manchester Guardian, the article remarking that there were less than a dozen guests at the simple service including the groom, Edward Robert Ashton, son of the manager of Collins Mill and his bride Jane Cook, known as Jinnie to her friends.

  The groom’s sister, Isabella Ashton, well known for her work at a Mothers’ Clinic in one of the poorer districts of the city, attended her. Dan Howarth acted as best man. Other guests included Miss Ashton’s colleague Dr Sydney Palmer and Mr and Mrs Cyril Howarth, together with a handful of neighbours. The family retainers occupied a back pew. The blushing bride, given away by Simeon Ashton himself, looked fragile and pretty in cream satin with a bandeau of bud roses about her forehead and carrying a spray of orchids. All present expressed astonished delight at how brave it was of Mrs Emily Ashton, who has suffered a long and debilitating illness, to venture outdoors on this, the very first day from her sick room following her amazing recovery. After a hearty wedding breakfast, the happy couple departed by train for a honeymoon in Colwyn Bay.

  In the weeks following the wedding, Bella felt decidedly unsettled. Ever since their meeting by the docks when she’d accepted Quinn’s explanation of his relationship with Jinnie, they’d continued to meet almost every week. She did not discuss the matter any further with Jinnie who remained in ignorance of their liaison. It was Bella’s secret which she kept entirely to herself, partly out of a sense of disloyalty to her friend who’d warned her off Quinn but also because she had no wish to have her belief in him challenged.

  Even so, Bella knew he was wrong for her, that the relationship could lead to trouble. She would occasionally attempt to free herself of her obsession and deliberately not go to an appointed meeting. But the very next Sunday evening on the dot of seven, she could usually be seen hurrying to Dawney’s Hill, impatient not to be late in case he didn’t wait for her. Rain or fine that was where they met. Bella refused absolutely to go to his house on Bromley Street, for all his attempts at persuasion. Being outside in the cold or the wet meant that nothing too intimate could take place between them. It was Bella’s only form of protection, a safety net against her own weakness, provided by the uncertainties of Manchester weather.

  Even so, the dangers of their relationship were only too real. The power of his hands upon her over-sensitised skin, his demanding mouth warm upon hers, the very sight of him striding along the road towards her would turn her limbs to liquid fire and leave her helpless with desire. She set few barriers beyond that of ultimate surrender for all she longed to do so, and there were times when Bella thought she’d go mad in her efforts not to give in to that need.

  And always there was the guilt.

  He was not the man for her. She knew this. Every waking hour she scolded herself for her shaming behaviour. Yet how could she resist? Billy Quinn had awakened in her an appetite that was new and dangerously exciting; one she felt quite unable to quench.

  Bella continued to live with Violet and her rumbustious family but her welcome, she ruefully admitted, was perhaps wearing a little thin. Violet was as warm and friendly as ever, Cyril Howarth of course made no comment upon the situation and the children dashed in and out of the overcrowded house, too caught up in their own lives to care one way or the other.

  But despite an attempt to patch up the quarrel between herself and Dan, relations remained difficult. He seemed to be in a constant sulk and rarely spent more than a half hour in the house if she were there, save during meal times when he would take any opportunity to snipe at her.

  ‘Don’t forget, Bella doesn’t care for tripe or pig’s trotters,’ he’d remind Violet, ‘her never needing to acquire such a lowbrow taste.’ And on another occasion, ‘Don’t expect Bella to eat that brawn yer making, Mother. She’s used to grander fare.’

  Bella told him not to be ridiculous, that she’d been eating the stuff for years and loved it. It was only tripe she didn’t care for, much to her father’s despair as it was his favourite dish. ‘Do you care for jellied eels?’

  ‘Nay,’ put in Violet. ‘Thee’d think his face had dropped a stitch if I were to put owt of that sort before him.’

  ‘There you are then.’ Bella laughed in triumph as Dan scowled.

  He took his revenge when he came upon her with her sleeves rolled up, covered in blacking as she helped Violet clean the range. ‘By heck, this is a turn up for the books. Miss Isabella Ashton getting her hands mucky.’

  The final straw came when he returned home early after his shift one day to find Bella in the steamy kitchen, elbow deep in soap suds, scrubbing his father’s socks on the rubbing board. ‘What are you trying to prove, actin
g as skivvy fer us lot? We don’t need your help to do the flipping washing. Mother, what are you thinking of, letting Miss Ashton demean herself in such a way?’

  Violet gave him what could only be described as an old fashioned look. ‘I’ve asked her to do nowt, lad. I couldn’t get going this morning. I’d both feet in one clog and t’lass offered to help. What’s up with yer? Thee’s always chunnering over summat these days. Leave lass alone.’

  ‘She’s the one creating problems here, not me.’

  ‘Drat you! I’ve had enough of this.’ Bella flung the socks back in the wash tub sending soapy water flying all over Violet’s shiny steel fender. ‘Might we have a word in private. Outside, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘Nay, it’s chucking it down,’ Violet protested, but Bella paid no heed.

  Standing facing Dan in a wet back yard, rain soaking whatever parts of her she’d managed to keep dry during a long morning’s washing, Bella said, ‘Why are you behaving like this? I used to think you and I were friends. Now, nothing I say is right. What have I done to deserve this sort of constant backbiting?’

  ‘If you don’t know, then I see no reason why I should bother explaining.’ He half turned from her but she snatched at his arm, pulling him round to face her.

  ‘No, I’m not letting you escape so easily. I want you to tell me what’s wrong. Do you want me to leave, is that it? Is it a nuisance, having me present in your house?’

  ‘Present in your house? Hearken the way you talk. Doesn’t that just show that you don’t belong in Jacob’s Court.’

  ‘For God’s sake, you’re not still obsessed with my so called middle-class status. What the hell does it matter? It shouldn’t, not between friends.’

  ‘Aye, but we’re not friends are we? You blows hot and cold you, like the wind.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘You know who I’m talking of. Billy Quinn.’

  Bella felt as if the blood drained from her face and then rushed back in again making her feel hot and uncomfortable despite the rain. ‘So you know about Quinn.’

  ‘Aye. I know.’

  ‘Well he’s just a friend, like you, and it’s none of your damned business what other friends I have. Is there some rule that says a person can have only one friend?’

  Dan laughed, and it wasn’t kindly meant. ‘You’re one of them lasses what likes to do a bit of slumming with whoever happens to be handy like, and when you’ve had yer laugh, yer bit of fun, you walk away. You could walk out of here any time you fancy and go back home to your posh house and to hell with the lot of us.’ He prodded his broad chest with the heel of his thumb. ‘But I can’t walk out. I live here.’ Whereupon he marched back indoors, leaving her to stand alone in the rain, steaming with fury and frustration.

  Yet in a way Bella had to concede that for all it was none of Dan Howarth’s business who she saw as a friend, in other respects he made a valid point. She could indeed return to the comfort of her middle class home, any time she chose to do so. The fact that she didn’t, was because it would mean she’d either have to tolerate her family’s disapproval or give up the Mothers’ Clinic altogether. A price she wasn’t prepared to pay, so either she suffered the back-draught of Dan’s temper, or found a place of her own to live.

  Chapter Seventeen

  In view of the strained relationship between herself and Dan, Bella began at once to look for a house of her own. She soon realised that it wasn’t going to be easy to find one that was clean and decent, in a respectable neighbourhood, and at a rent she could afford.

  Her only income was what she earned herself, working three days a week on the glove counter at Kendal Milne and she certainly had no intention of asking her father for any help. In the end she gave up looking in the better streets and settled for a tiny two bedroom cottage only slightly more salubrious than Jacob’s Court. But it was at least close to the clinic. It was also nearer to the cattle market which was unfortunate, as the early morning lowing of cows being brought to the pens, not to mention the smell that seemed to permeate the entire neighbourhood, would be something she must learn to tolerate. But then, was it any worse than the sulphurous stink of the gas works?

  Violet rolled up her sleeves, flexed her substantial muscles and set to with a will to help Bella to scrub and scour the hovel clean from top to toe. Cyril gave it a wash of distemper, ‘to keep down the bugs’ and the older children pegged Bella a rag rug out of their scrap box.

  Simeon grudgingly agreed to her taking a few pieces of furniture from her own room at Seedley Park Road, including her bed, which were brought round on a cart by a cheerful Sam who readily lent a hand to help her settle in. Mrs Dyson included two pairs of curtains that had lain neglected in a drawer for years, and of course a basket of food, just to start her off.

  ‘By heck, tha’ll be as snug as a bug in ‘ere lass,’ Violet remarked with satisfaction as she surveyed the finished result. ‘Though happen a kitchen table and an horse hair sofa wouldn’t go amiss. Have a scout round the market. It’s surprising what thee can find.’

  ‘I will. Thanks Violet. I appreciate all you’ve done.’

  Her friend’s bright eyes filled suddenly with tears and, pulling a large handkerchief from the capacious pocket of her pinny, resoundingly blew her nose upon it. ‘Eeh, I’ll miss thee, lass. I’ve enjoyed our little chin-wags and you helping around the house, putting in your fourpennorth.’

  Bella attempted to give Violet an affectionate squeeze, though it wasn’t easy to stretch her arms even a half way round her plump girth. ‘I shall still pop round for a chat, don’t you worry. And don’t forget we meet regularly at the clinic too.’

  ‘Course we do. Tara then chuck. I’d best be off and see to me own hungry crew.’

  When they had all gone, Bella closed the door and walked back into the empty kitchen, feeling strangely vulnerable and alone. Violet had lit a fire in the grate and on an upturned orange box were the plates of sandwiches and cakes sent by Mrs D, though Bella’s appetite had suddenly deserted her and she didn’t feel in the least hungry. A few daisies and buttercups from Tilly stood in a jam jar on the mantle shelf, and it must have been Sam who’d filled her coal scuttle and chopped her some kindling. The thoughtfulness of these kind friends, in stark contrast to the support her own family had signally failed to offer, brought a gush of tears to her eyes. Drat them, they could have helped, but wouldn’t. Drat Dan for being so pigheaded. Drat them all. Not even Jinnie had come round to help or even wish her well.

  Life seemed suddenly far from easy. And to make matters even more uncomfortable, she still couldn’t get Billy Quinn out of her mind. What would happen when he learned she had moved to a place of her own? Her heart gave a tiny jump of alarm as Bella realised she could have made herself even more vulnerable to his charms by doing so. She wouldn’t tell him. There was no reason for him to know where she lived. She must stand by her pledge not to allow the relationship to develop any further, no matter how much the weakness of her flesh may crave otherwise.

  It was at this moment that she heard footsteps hurrying up the yard and suddenly there was Jinnie’s bright face at the kitchen window and the bang of the back door as she bustled in. She flung herself down in the only chair in the room, quite out of breath.

  ‘Hello, love. I know I should’ve been here earlier to help you get sorted out but Emily took one of her turns and has kept me on the run for days. I’m fair wore out. By heck but you need the patience of a saint to deal with that madam. How did you manage for so long?’

  Bella was laughing, delighted to see her friend and not in the least concerned about her mother’s apparent relapse, the timing, as always, impeccable. Bella had come to realise over these last months that despite Emily’s aspirational, some might say snobby approach to life, there was much more to her than that. While she clung to Edward with a tenacity that drove her to the limits of self-sacrifice in order to keep him at her side, she was in fact jealous of Bella’s achievement and fre
edom. Consequently she would do anything she could to deflect attention away from either of her children, in order to focus all eyes upon herself. Reading between the lines from comments, Bella suspected this desperate need for attention had something to do with the cracks in her own marriage. Though Simeon wasn’t willing to admit it, moral restraint had perhaps taken its toll upon them both. Bella understood all of this now and learned not to blame herself for her mother’s behaviour.

  ‘Oh, I can’t tell you how glad I am that you came. It’s so good to see you, Jinnie. But I’m sorry if Ma’s being a nuisance.’

  The other girl’s eyes lit with wicked laughter. ‘Aw, don’t worry, I can cope well enough. I think she’s warming to me, the old besom.’

  Bella chuckled. ‘You’ll have her eating out of your hand in no time, just like Father and Edward.’

  ‘Aye, happen I will an’ all.’ Noticing the plate of sandwiches and another of flapjack biscuits reposing grandly on a paper doily on the upturned orange box, she raised her eyebrows. ‘Mrs Dyson?’ And when Bella smilingly nodded, saying she’d been about to have a bite herself, Jinnie produced a bottle of wine from inside her coat.

  ‘I nicked this from Father-in-law’s cellar. At least, Edward did. He’ll be along later by the way, soon as he can escape Mother’s clutches, meanwhile we’re to get on with celebrating your new home, he says.’

  Bella sank to her knees on the rag rug, overcome with emotion. ‘I thought you weren’t coming. I thought nobody in my family cared.’

  Jinnie looked at her askance. ‘How could you think such a thing? Nay, we love you, our Bella. Don’t ever think different.’

  Suddenly realising she was ravenously hungry, Bella snatched up a sandwich and bit it into it. ‘Best cooked ham. What joy! Help yourself, Jinnie.’ And as she held out the plate a thought struck her and she began to laugh. ‘Do you realise that you and I have changed places. You’re the young lady now, living in the fine double fronted Accrington brick. And I’m the one in the slums.’