Goodbye Piccadilly

by Goodbye Piccadilly (retail) (epub)

  ‘I wish that I could say “I understand”, but I don’t… I have no idea what it must be like for you. Nobody that I have known, with your mother’s exception, has died. Isn’t that extraordinary?’

  ‘There are times when I wonder whether I grieve for her or for myself. And there are other times when I feel so angry that I could smash anything to hand. The waste! How could anyone think that there is love in a God who wastes a gentle, kind person?’

  ‘Perhaps, when Kitt grows up, and you can see the whole picture, there will be some kind of answer to that.’

  ‘Otis! What balderdash.’

  Otis nodded resignedly, and put her arm about Esther’s small shoulders. ‘Of course it is. It was a cruel and heartless death. But it is just that I wish to say something that will make you feel better.’

  Esther leaned into the circle of her friend’s arm. ‘You are like her. Pacific, kind, and will do and say anything to make things better. Not like me. Alas, poor Esther, who cannot ever have a birthday without remembering how her mother died having a child wrenched from her. I’m vinegar-sharp and angry. I prod people who have sores so that they will be as miserable as I.’

  ‘Nonsense! You are unhappy today because for a moment when you awoke you had forgotten that your mother was dead. Anyone would be unhappy with such memories as you have. You are entitled to be vinegary on occasions. If you may not, then who may be? I can be sharp enough when the mood takes me, yet I have been given a life of love and pleasure.’

  ‘I had looked forward so much to this holiday with you, and what do I do but spoil it.’

  ‘One crotchety outburst won’t spoil a fortnight in this lovely scenery.’

  ‘I wish that we could spend more time together.’

  Otis did not respond. Although she had not shown it to Esther, she had been angry when she had heard that Esther had given up her place at college to bring up her baby brother.

  Emily Hewetson had said that she was shocked at Otis’s reaction.

  ‘Otis, it is the girl’s duty. Who else is there to care for the child?’

  ‘Why any more Esther’s duty than the baby’s own father, or Jack’s for that matter? Jack has already had his chance, he has been to university.’

  ‘There are times when I think you say foolish and outrageous things to shock and provoke. How could a man care for a tiny baby?’

  ‘In the same way as Esther – by learning how.’

  Emily, perceiving the seriousness with which Otis took her argument, felt afraid and had grown shrill. ‘Well then, I suppose that in your world we should see young men pushing perambulators in Kensington Gardens, whilst young women, no doubt in top hats and morning dress, go to the City.’

  ‘I do not see why we should not go to the City, but oh, Ma, what woman would be seen dead in such a silly form of dress?’

  Emily had felt like crying. ‘Because of nature, Otis. That is why they should not. Because Esther Moth’s place in the world is to marry, bear babies and rear them; not Jack Moth’s, not Inspector Moth’s… but Esther’s!’

  ‘Kitt is not Esther’s baby.’

  ‘The child is her brother!’

  ‘He is Inspector Moth’s son.’

  ‘She is a woman and so has a natural duty to the child.’

  ‘If she had impregnated Mrs Moth then I might have agreed with you.’

  Emily had been so shocked that she had pointed to the door and told Otis to go to her room and wait for her father to deal with her. But Otis had made a joke of it saying, ‘Oh, Ma, there’s nobody like you.’ And having hugged her, rushed away to a lecture.

  Now Otis said, ‘I would love it if you would be included in more of our evenings… you know that we do have a rare old time of it on occasion. And you have other friendships. You must get out more than you do. Kitt doesn’t need you one hundred per cent of the time. Why don’t you ask your father to spend more time at home?’

  ‘What friendships?’

  ‘Well, Bindon Blood for one, isn’t he a constant visitor?’ Esther flushed and frowned but did not reply.

  Otis drew a few lines in her journal and handed it to Esther. The sketch depicted a glowering cartoon likeness of Esther Moth, and the quote, ‘Oh what’s the matter with ’Melia Jane, She’s perfectly well and she hasn’t a pain, And it’s lovely rice pudding for dinner again.’

  For seconds Esther stared at Otis’s cartoon drawing, then her mouth twitched and she smiled, almost against her will. ‘Otis Hewetson! Why will you never allow anyone to have a serious wallow in self-pity?’

  ‘A wallow’s all right, but I don’t think that I should stand by and watch you drown in it.’

  Esther took Otis’s hand and rubbed it gently against her own cheek and, using the silly language they used as girls, said, ‘Yer a bit of orl right, gel.’

  ‘Gerron ya soff fing.’ The affection in which Otis held Esther showed in her eyes. As always she tried to mask the anger, pity and guilt she also felt. She pitied Esther as she would have pitied any young woman who had set her heart on serious education and had been thwarted. The guilt was almost second-nature, for Otis had developed a keen awareness of the many privileges she enjoyed because she had been born to them. She now mixed with a group of bright young women who regularly inspected their consciences and took a very different view of society from that of their mamas.

  They had discussed the iniquity of Esther’s situation and come to the conclusion that Esther had capitulated too easily. Inspector Moth, who never let his personal life interfere with his duty, was able to uphold that code only because he had a young and vulnerable unmarried daughter, whose duty it was, he considered, to step into her mother’s shoes. What was more important than to keep the wheels of the Moth domestic life oiled and running? – certainly not two or three years of study in a female college.

  He had blackmailed her with her love for him and her mother and her duty to the helpless Kitt. As Esther had related it, he had obviously packaged it very well, but as Otis saw him he was unfair and selfish.

  ‘I hardly like to ask you to give it up, Esther,’ he had said. ‘I know how much you had set your heart on this studying business, my dear, but I could never give my full attention to my own serious duties knowing that some employed woman was running my household. Lord, it is difficult enough coping with the loss of Anne without the worry of wondering what I should find when I return home each day.’ His eyes had been wet. Esther could scarcely bear her own tears, but his were terrible to her.

  How much more heavy to bear was his loss of a wife than Esther’s loss of a mother.

  Jack had made an honest attempt on Esther’s behalf. ‘Father, it seems to me that the codicil drawn up by Mr Hewetson at Southsea was Mother’s way of saying that whatever happened she wanted Esther to be free to follow her chosen career.’

  ‘That, Jack, is something we shall never know. I must say that I find the entire business extraordinary. That your mother, who had a perfectly sensible will drawn up years ago, should suddenly, whilst on holiday and without consulting her husband, call in a solicitor of brief acquaintance and have him make those somewhat hole-in-the-corner arrangements… Well, it beats me. And if Esther feels strongly that her own ambitions must come before the welfare of the family, well then, come first they must.’

  ‘Hole-in-the-corner, Father? How can you say that!’

  ‘I do not mean that it was an underhand act in that sense, but I cannot see why she went to Martin Hewetson rather than wait to see her own solicitor.’

  ‘I don’t like to say it, Father, but wouldn’t that have been rather too late?’

  Esther, panicking at the prospect of yet further rents in the fabric of their family life, said, ‘It’s all right, Jack. I appreciate what Mother did in securing a little independence for me, but I would prefer to forget all about college and be at home to look after Father and Kitt.’

  ‘And the income from the property can be invested so that when Esther finds herself a husband, she
will have a tidy nest-egg of her own.’

  When Otis heard that Esther was giving up her place at Stockwell, she rushed to see her own father and exploded, ‘She can’t, Pa! She absolutely cannot. You must go and see Inspector Moth and tell him that Mrs Moth wanted Esther to go to college. Why else should she call you in like that? She must have thought she might die, mustn’t she? And she wanted to make Esther secure because she knew what would happen to Esther if she had to rely on her father for support.’

  ‘Otis, Otis. You do fly off in all directions. I have seen Inspector Moth and told him everything that went on between myself and his wife, and if Inspector Moth is satisfied that he is carrying out his wife’s wishes, then who are we strangers to say otherwise?’

  She had tried to get Max Hewetson to do something for Esther. ‘Oh, be blowed about stuffy old ethics, Uncle Hewey. Esther needs somebody to defend her, she’s in no fit state to decide anything, she needs support. She longs to go to college, Mrs Moth knew that and wanted to ensure that nothing would stop it. Why can’t somebody speak up for Mrs Moth? After all, it was her property and she wanted Esther to have it so that she could be independent. And now she is not.’

  ‘Otis, my dear. There are times, when you are in full voice, that I believe that women might make very good advocates – never mind the truth of it, show us the passion. For all we know, this gift to her daughter might well have been made in a moment of sentiment. Had she lived, it might well have been revoked upon her return to London.’

  ‘Uncle Hewey! You know that’s not true. But if you will not tell him, then I shall.’

  Having known his niece and her flouncing little tantrums from the day she was born, Max Hewetson said, ‘That’s right, Otis, you tell him what’s what.’ Never, of course, dreaming that she would.

  The overwhelming atmosphere and smell of the Police Court where, upon enquiring for Inspector Moth at his office, Otis had been directed, had not deterred her. When after many enquiries she had at last seen his imposing figure striding towards her, she had momentarily been put out at her own audacity, but remembering how Jack, when they were all at Bognor Regis, had confessed that he had ceased being afraid of his father once he had seen him in his combinations, Otis soon reduced the revered detective to human proportions.

  She had forgotten how large and overbearing he was. And how handsome. He had taken her hand and paid her a compliment on her appearance as though they were meeting in the foyer of The Grand Hotel, and suggested that, as she said the matter was private, they go to his office in Scotland Yard, which was close by.

  Determined not to have her resolve weakened by his manner, she began her speech as soon as they were in his office. ‘I know that it is impertinent for me to have come to you, and I know that my father would be furious with me if he knew that I had, but I know that I am right to do so.’

  ‘In that case, perhaps you should not be hasty. Wait.’ And he had gone from the room and reappeared with a bottle and two glasses.

  ‘Finest port in the country.’ Without enquiring as to her tastes, he handed her a glass.

  She looked at it suspiciously. ‘This is not port wine – it’s not red.’

  ‘I assure you that it is. Taste.’

  She did. ‘It is port.’ And sipped again appreciatively.

  ‘Now that is what I like to see, a young lady who can recognize a fine white port when she tastes one.’ And he had refilled her glass.

  But she saw what he was attempting to do, and put her glass down firmly.

  ‘Inspector Moth. You will not perhaps like a woman who speaks her mind, but that is what I am going to do. I do so because Mrs Moth was always a kind and understanding lady, and Esther is very dear to me.’

  He smiled encouragingly, leaned back, raised his feet on an open drawer and listened.

  ‘Ever since I have known Esther we have talked of going to college. We even dreamed of the possibility of in the future starting a small school of our own. I know that Esther had told her mother of her plans, and she said that Mrs Moth had said that it was a splendid idea and that we should never let anything stand in the way of our youthful ambitions.’

  His eyes not leaving her for a second, Inspector Moth rocked himself in his captain’s chair and nodded as though in agreement. Feeling that she was attaining her object by reasoned and civilized presentation, she accepted a little more of the white port wine.

  ‘I take it,’ he said, ‘that you think that Esther should not be at home attending to womanly duties, but should be joining you at your establishment for “young ladies with a purpose in life” – isn’t that the phrase?’

  ‘“Women”. Not “Ladies”, we do not wish “Ladies” upon ourselves. “Women of purpose”.’

  ‘And you believe that what my daughter has chosen to do has no purpose?’

  ‘I did not say that, I believe that care of children and teaching them is the foundation of a better society. I know that Esther wants very much to go to training college, and I believe that Mrs Moth wished her to. And I believe further that if you do not let Esther have the education she really wants, then you will not be carrying out Mrs Moth’s wishes.’

  ‘I see.’ He had nodded as though he had never before considered the point. ‘And how have you come to these conclusions?’

  ‘I can see no other reason why Mrs Moth would have consulted my father and have him make provision for Esther. And from talking with Esther I know that she has always longed to continue her education.’

  ‘This was before she decided against becoming a purposeful woman.’ His eyes crinkled slightly and his lips were raised at the corners.

  ‘Mr Moth, if you think that you can intimidate me with ridicule, then you do not know me very well.’

  ‘Miss Hewetson, you are an extraordinarily attractive young woman and I would never dream of either intimidating or ridiculing any attractive young woman, particularly one with such nerve.’

  ‘Nerve?’

  ‘Yes, miss. George Moth is a man to be reckoned with, didn’t you know? Hardened criminals and murderers think twice when they have to face Inspector Moth, prostitutes quail and police sergeants jump.’

  ‘Perhaps their jumpiness has more to do with their consciences than with yourself. If you believe that your rank in the police force intimidates me, then you are wrong. As far as I am concerned, you are my best friend’s father.’

  He raised his eyebrows and made a gesture that suggested that he gave her that point.

  ‘Miss Hewetson, you had me fooled, and there’s not many who have done that. On the few occasions when I have come across you I took you for an inconsequential, scatter-brained, over-indulged bit of a girl. But I look at you now…’ He had paused whilst his eyes took in her face and figure. ‘And I see a young woman to be reckoned with.’ Otis had felt both strong and weak. The weakness she put down to the unexpected potency of the port; the strength she acknowledged was pride in having done the right thing in confronting a man as important as Inspector Moth in the defence of her friend.

  ‘Thank you. But you don’t get round me with flattery. Are you going to let Esther go to college?’

  ‘Esther is free to do whatever she chooses.’

  ‘You know that she is not. A misguided sense of duty to you and to her baby brother prevents her from doing what she wants for herself and to which she has a right.’

  ‘Would such sense of duty prevent you, Otis?’

  The use of her first name was natural, but sounded unexpectedly intimate.

  As he had done a minute ago to her, it was she who now paused and looked at him as if for the first time. Although he was over forty and as old as her father, he was extraordinarily attractive. The same straight, wide brows as Jack, but with the bushier eyebrows of a mature man, the same mouth whose line was deceptively shaped in a smile, the same strong, straight nose and firm jaw, but where Jack’s physiognomy was fine, the father’s was fleshier and more solid. It was, Otis thought, the face of an intelligent man who
had seen and heard everything good and bad in human nature, and she saw in that moment how it had been that Anne Moth had found herself so self-satisfied in a pregnancy at the age of almost forty.

  What must it be like to be physically loved by such a man? Or by any man for that matter.

  ‘No, it would not prevent me – any more than it would yourself, or Jack, or my Uncle Hew or my own father. You would not dream of expecting Jack to forgo his education, you should not expect it of Esther.’

  Having said what she had come to say, she rose and held out her hand. ‘Thank you for seeing me, Inspector Moth. I should be grateful if you would not complain of me to my father – it would upset my mother if she thought I was tramping round London on such errands.’ She raised her eyebrows questioningly.

  He nodded. ‘Provided that you too are discreet.’

  Suddenly, with one hand low on her back and the other about her shoulders, he quickly drew her into a close position where he was bending over her. His mouth was firm upon hers. She could smell the Police Court upon his clothes, his own warm, masculine sweat, the lavender shaving soap upon his skin. Firmly he pushed open her lips and made contact with her tongue.

  She had never seriously kissed or been kissed before, yet she knew instinctively how to respond. His mouth was moist and warm, and the sandpaper roughness of his chin rasped her own. Briefly his large hands moved over her body and she did not want to move from them. It was a long and passionate kiss, an adult kiss, a kiss that set the wheels and pistons of Otis’s womanhood into motion. She could not tell whether it lasted seconds or minutes, but she did not draw away, instead, after the first puzzling moment, she allowed herself the full experience so that, at last, it was he who drew slowly away with a look of surprise in his eyes.