Mermaids Singing

by Dilly Court

  Rackham had left her financially well provided for in the hotel in Dover and, if Maria had not been down on her luck and come searching for her, Bella had to admit to herself that she would have waited for him to return. He always came back, sooner or later. Maria had encouraged her to think the worst of Rackham and the best of Sir Desmond. Still, Bella thought miserably, she could have refused to have anything to do with Maria’s plans for her, but instead she had listened to her mother and followed her instructions to the letter.

  Bella sighed, shaking her head. It had been the lure of financial security that had made her sell herself to a much older man. She could have said no at any time, but she did not. She could not blame Maria or Rackham; the choice had been hers and hers alone. Dragging herself to her feet, Bella wiped her eyes on her sleeve. Giles had been a part of her life for so long that she could not imagine going on forever without him. He would be back. Rackham always came back, didn’t he?

  There was surprisingly little furore over Desmond’s death. Of course it was in the newspapers the next day, and the funeral was reported, with Miss Iris Mableton being named as the chief mourner; Captain Sir Edward Mableton, Bt. not having returned as yet from the war in South Africa. The fact that Lady Arabella Mableton, widow of Sir Desmond, was absent from her husband’s funeral was not mentioned in any of the reports, and for that Bella was grateful. She wanted nothing to do with the house in Dover Street; at least not until Edward returned, and then things would be different. Now that she was widowed there was nothing to stand in their way. She was certain that he still loved her and she settled down to wait for his return.

  Bella received weekly postcards from Giles – not that he wrote much by way of a message, but using the same old code they had developed years ago, he sent her a card from every town and city that he visited. She kept them, tied with a blue satin ribbon and tucked behind a teacup, on the kitchen dresser. Giles was, she had realised, her alter ego; his failings were her own failings, his strengths were her strengths; they were bound by invisible cords and, without a doubt, he would return one day to annoy and torment her. She had been devastated when he left but she would get over it. After all, it was Edward whom she really loved and the war could not go on forever.

  In the meantime, it was pure joy to have Leonie back. At first the little girl was a bit uncertain and shy, overawed by the number of people living in the same house and a bit nervous of the other children. But, as the days went by Leonie grew in confidence and she had taken a liking to Violet, who was immediately her devoted slave. Leonie now bossed Harry around and had a fit of the sulks when it didn’t work with the older boys. Maggie had really taken to Leonie and, like a mother hen, cared for her along with her own brood, relieving Bella of the dreary tasks of motherhood that, with a houseful of servants, had never been her lot.

  There was only one problem brought about by her sudden state of widowhood, and that was due to the fact that Humphrey now thought of her as being his own personal property. He was becoming more and more persistent in his attentions, and his veiled suggestions that he might set her up as his mistress in an establishment of her own had become daily demands. Bella had so far managed to fend him off with smiles and vague promises but she knew that, sooner or later, she would have to refuse outright and that would not go down well with Mr Chester. She could not afford to lose her job, and possibly her home, especially now that she had Leonie’s future to consider.

  The letter from Feeney, Feeney and Rumbelow requesting her attendance at their Lincoln’s Inn Fields offices came as a complete surprise. Maria said sarcastically that Sir Desmond had probably bequeathed her a fortune in his will, but Bella was instantly alert and terrified that the legal matter might have something to do with Leonie. What would she do if Desmond had made her a ward of court or, even worse, made Iris her legal guardian? She had no knowledge of the law and no one to consult. If only Giles were here, she thought, as she sat in the hansom cab on her way to Holborn. If there were any doubts about her right to bring up her child, she would have to take Leonie and flee the country.

  The clerk did not keep her waiting this time. He showed her into Mr Feeney’s office and left immediately. Mr Feeney rose from behind his desk and came round to offer her a chair.

  ‘Please get to the point, Mr Feeney,’ Bella said, nerves making her voice sharp.

  ‘Of course, my lady. It’s good of you to come to my office.’ Mr Feeney cleared his throat nervously and picked up a document with a big red seal on the front. Unfolding it he cleared his throat again. ‘This is your late husband’s will. He altered it just a few weeks before the tragic accident. I won’t read the part that doesn’t concern you but –’

  ‘Just tell me the important bits,’ Bella said, praying that he couldn’t see that her hands were trembling. She just wanted to know the worst and get it over with.

  ‘I’m afraid, my lady, that you are not mentioned in the document except for the fact that you are named as the sole legal guardian of your daughter, Leonie Eugenie Mableton.’

  Closing her eyes Bella was unable to prevent a sigh of relief escaping from her lips. ‘Thank God.’

  Mr Feeney made a sympathetic noise in his throat. ‘Sir Desmond has left your daughter a considerable sum of money, the capital to be put in trust until she is twenty-five or until she marries, whichever occurs the soonest, and the interest to be used for her maintenance and education. He has also bequeathed to her Mableton Manor in Essex, although I believe the said property is in a sorry state of repair and needs a great deal doing to it to make it habitable.’ He stopped and peered at Bella over the top of the document. ‘Are you feeling faint, my lady? Would you like a glass of water?’

  Walking towards the cabstand on Waterloo Bridge, Bella was too preoccupied with her thoughts to notice the bustling crowds around her; nor did she hear the blare of motor car horns, the clatter of horses’ hooves or the cries of the street vendors. Sitting in the cab, she struggled to think of a reason why Desmond would have changed his mind and been so generous to Leonie. She knew that it was not because he had a particular fondness for their child, he had made it plain that she was just another possession. He might well have taken a sadistic delight in making Iris her guardian, so why the change of heart? Bella opened her eyes with a gasp, as the obvious truth washed over her like the ‘alleluia chorus’. Edward! He was the only person, apart from Iris, whose opinion carried any sway with Desmond. Edward must have received at least one of her letters begging for his help. Dear, dear, Edward, he had quite obviously communicated in some way with his father, pleading with him to be generous and fair. Bella clasped her hands and stuffed them into her mouth to stop herself from crying out with sheer joy. It had to be Edward’s way of letting her know that he still loved her.

  It was just a matter of time now until Edward returned home, and then Humphrey could find himself another star. She was free to marry Edward and she would delight in telling Humphrey what to do with his offer to set her up as his mistress. She would leave London forever and take Leonie to her rightful home. Once they were set up in Mableton Manor, away from the gossip and tittle-tattle of London society, Edward could join them, and they would live together in perfect bliss. Bella wanted to shout it out at the silly sheep-like people who thronged the Strand, scream it to the lions that crouched protectively around Nelson’s column in Trafalgar Square. She had the mad desire to climb up and hug the statue of Eros, the God of love, poised on his plinth in Piccadilly Circus. She was so happy that it hurt.

  In the months that followed, Bella lived in a blissful world of her own; dreaming dreams of Edward’s return and their own private happy ending. She had Leonie to pet and fuss over and she was top of the bill, keeping Humphrey happy with gratifying front-of-house receipts. Kitty was rapidly earning a reputation as a designer and modiste to Society’s darlings and, for once, everyone in the house seemed to be getting along quite happily.

  During a brief Christmas leave, Bella had even managed to ge
t on the right side of Jem and, when he had returned to sea, they had parted as friends. Poor Jem, she couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for him. It was obvious that he doted on Kitty, who continued to treat him like her best friend; Bella did not need a crystal ball to tell her that this was the last thing Jem wanted. Then there was George; a frequent visitor to the house in Sackville Street, who larked around with Kitty and the children and was charming to Betty and Maria, but Bella had been quick to see the devoted spaniel look in his eyes every time they rested on Kitty. Well, she had always known that Kitty would be a stunner one day. She sensed that there would be trouble before the New Year was out.

  Bella had just arrived at the theatre on Sunday morning, the first day of June, for a dress rehearsal of her new act, when the call boy came rushing up to her brandishing a morning newspaper.

  ‘Miss Lane, Miss Lane, the war is over. We’ve beaten them Boers. They’ve signed a peace treaty at a place with some foreign name what I can’t say. Miss Lane, are you all right? You’ve gone a funny colour?’

  Suddenly the ground came up to hit her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘Give us a kiss, Kitty.’

  ‘Stop it, George,’ Kitty said, giving George a playful slap on the wrists. ‘Not in front of the children.’

  George grinned, holding his hands up in a gesture of submission. ‘You can’t blame a chap for trying. We have been stepping out for a while now.’

  ‘George and Kitty are spooning,’ crowed Frankie.

  ‘Don’t be vulgar, Frankie Cable,’ Kitty said, attempting a frown. ‘You’re supposed to be helping the young ’uns with their packing. You’ll be the first to complain when you get to Mableton Manor and find you’ve left half your things behind.’

  Frankie grinned at her. ‘I’d rather stay here and watch George make sheep’s-eyes at you, Kitty.’

  ‘Cheeky boy.’ Kitty caught him a clout on the ear, but it was not a hard one. ‘George and me are just friends.’

  ‘Anyway, who wants to go and live in the blooming country?’ Frankie mumbled, kneeling down on the attic floor, and tossing things into a tea chest. ‘I don’t know why Ma took it into her head to move us all to blooming Essex.’

  ‘Mind your language, young man,’ George said, sliding his hands around Kitty’s waist.

  ‘Thank you, George, but I can handle this,’ Kitty said, pushing him away. ‘And, Frankie, you mind your manners. You’ll be the man of the house when you’re living in Mableton Manor. I expect you to help your ma and not bother her with your complaining.’

  Frankie rolled his eyes, but he did as he was told.

  George sat down on the bed and patted the coverlet. ‘Come and join me, Kitty.’

  Shaking her head, Kitty began packing neatly folded piles of clothes into a cardboard suitcase. ‘Haven’t you got anything better to do than bother me?’

  ‘I can wait,’ George said, taking out his tobacco pouch and starting to roll a cigarette.

  ‘No smoking up here, if you please. I don’t want the house set on fire,’ Kitty said, tempering the severity of her words with a wink and a smile.

  ‘Aw, Kitty!’ George protested, putting his pouch back in his pocket.

  On the floor, Violet and Harry were playing with Leonie, rolling about tickling, giggling and yelping. Charlie sat cross-legged reading a book, while Billy slithered under the bed and began throwing out long-forgotten items – a lead soldier, a doll’s wooden arm and some fluff-covered bullseyes.

  ‘Nearly done,’ Kitty said, struggling to close the lid. ‘Give us a hand, George.’

  Obligingly, George leaned across and pressed the lid down so that the locks snapped shut. ‘When are they for the off?’

  ‘Bella is taking the nippers to Liverpool Street tomorrow morning, to catch the eight thirty train for Colchester. The carter is coming for the heavy stuff this afternoon.’

  ‘You’ll miss them,’ George said. ‘But at least you’ll have more time for me.’

  ‘Don’t you ever give up, George Jones?’

  ‘Not until you promise to be my girl, Kitty.’

  ‘Don’t start all that again. I’ve got enough to do keeping things going here since Maggie and Betty went off to Essex to get the house ready. I never saw it myself, but Bella said it was in a right old state, and the housekeeper and her old man were two nasty pieces of work.’

  ‘You can’t dodge the issue forever, Kitty. I’m dead serious about you. I ain’t playing the fool this time.’

  Frankie glanced up and opened his mouth as if ready to jump in with a saucy remark, but he subsided beneath a fierce look from Kitty.

  ‘This isn’t the time or place.’

  ‘It never is. I just want you to take me seriously.’

  ‘Kitty, Kitty,’ Violet said, tugging at her skirt. ‘I can hear the doorbell. Maybe it’s the carter.’

  ‘Oh, heavens, there’s no one downstairs to answer it.’ Kitty made for the door. ‘Keep an eye on the little ones, please, George.’

  The knocking grew more impatient and Kitty ran down the four flights of stairs, arriving breathless and panting at the front door. Wrenching it open, she let out a shriek of delight. ‘Jem!’

  ‘Ho there, Kitty!’ Jem said, his lazy grin revealing teeth that flashed white against his deeply bronzed skin. ‘What took you so long? I was beginning to think you’d gone and moved house again.’

  Kitty flung her arms around his neck and hugged him, laughing and crying at the same time. ‘Jem, I can’t believe it’s you! Why didn’t you let us know you were coming?’

  ‘Hello, what’s all this?’ demanded George, who had come up behind them unnoticed.

  Frankie pushed him aside with a whoop of glee. ‘It’s Jem, come home from the sea. Jem, Jem, d’you remember me?’ He surged forward, followed by Billy and Charlie hurling themselves at Jem and sticking to him like burrs.

  ‘What a welcome,’ Jem chuckled. ‘But it would be nice if you’d let me inside, all of you, instead of keeping me standing on the doorstep.’

  ‘Come in do,’ Kitty said, dragging Jem inside with the children still clinging to him. ‘Jem, you remember George. You met him at Christmas.’

  ‘Pleased to see you, mate,’ Jem said, smiling. ‘I’d shake hands if I had one free.’

  Hackles raised, George remained unsmiling. ‘So you’re on leave again. How long before you go back to sea?’

  ‘George!’ Kitty said, nudging him in the ribs. ‘What a thing to say when Jem’s hardly over the threshold.’

  George went red in the face. ‘I was just asking.’

  ‘Not to worry,’ Jem said, equably. ‘It’s the same question everyone asks when you come home on leave, and the answer is, I don’t know. Not as yet, anyway.’ Disentangling himself from the boys, Jem swept Kitty off her feet and gave her a loud, smacking kiss on both cheeks and a more lingering one on the lips. ‘You look good enough to eat, my girl.’

  Making a noise something between a cough and a growl, George slipped between them, putting his arm around Kitty’s shoulders. ‘Hold on, there fella. Kitty is my girl now and I don’t appreciate your familiarity.’

  ‘Don’t you dare speak to him like that,’ Kitty said, wriggling free. ‘And, anyway, I’m not your girl. I’ll thank you to mind your tongue, George.’

  Before George could argue or Jem get a word in, a loud cough followed by a sharp rap on the brass door knocker, made them all spin around to see the carter standing on the doorstep.

  ‘I come to collect some boxes to go to Mableton Manor,’ he said, tugging off his cap.

  ‘What’s going on, Kitty? You’re not really on the move again, are you?’ Jem said, plucking Billy and Charlie off his back and setting them down on the floor.

  ‘I’ll explain later,’ Kitty said, beckoning to the carter.

  ‘Is this to go, Miss?’ he asked, pointing to the sea chest and ditty bag that Jem had abandoned on the front step.

  ‘I should say not,’ Jem said. ‘I’ll shift it out
of your way, mate. Give us a hand, you lads, and you can show me up to my room.’

  ‘It’s all ready for you,’ Kitty said, standing aside as the boys rushed forward, jostling each other and squabbling over which one of them would carry the most. ‘Betty and me did it up special, so it would be ready for you whenever you came home.’

  ‘It’s easy to see who’s favourite here,’ George said, scowling. ‘You’ve made a real fool of me today, Kitty.’

  ‘You made a fool of yourself, acting all stupid and jealous and embarrassing me in front of Jem.’

  George’s colour deepened from dull red to purple. ‘You and me have been stepping out for months. I thought you liked me.’

  Regretting her sharp tone, Kitty slipped her hand through his arm. ‘Oh, George! Of course I like you.’