by June Francis
She clasped it. ‘Where’s Alice?’
‘Sitting in the car with my mother and the children. She didn’t feel it right to intrude on Robbie’s grief.’
‘I’ll speak to her.’ Tilly hurried down the path to the car parked at the kerb.
The children chorused a welcome and she hugged and kissed the three of them before facing her sister. ‘So will you come?’ asked Tilly.
Alice looked at her as if she was mad. ‘You mean, go to Scotland with you? No! Why should I? You know my feelings towards Dad.’
‘But he’s hurt and could be dying!’ cried Tilly.
‘I don’t care,’ said Alice, her face set. ‘He can rot in hell for all I care.’
Tilly drew back as if she had been slapped in the face. Gabrielle spoke up. ‘That’s a wicked thing to say, Alice. With that attitude you’ll end up hurting no one but yourself. You have to learn to forgive.’
‘You’re a right one to talk,’ said Alice, clenching her fists. ‘You wouldn’t forgive your own mother.’
‘Yes! And I’ve regretted it since. Show a bit of compassion. If for no one else’s sake but Tilly’s. She needs you to do this and so do your children,’ said Gabrielle. ‘What are you teaching them about the Christian faith if you can’t do this?’
Alice reddened, and hearing footsteps, looked up at her husband. Had he heard what his mother had said to her? If he had he was keeping mum but she could guess what his thoughts would be. ‘All right! I’ll go.’
Tilly’s arms went about her neck and almost choked her. ‘Thanks!’
‘All right, all right,’ said Alice, freeing herself. ‘But I’d like to know how we’re going to get there.’
Gabrielle looked at her son. ‘You can take my car – and I suppose my grandchildren can stay with me a bit longer.’
The children cheered. Alice opened her mouth to protest then, at a warning look from Seb, she closed it again.
‘If you’re not back by Monday evening, I’ll take them to your house in Chester and see that they go to school on Tuesday,’ said Gabrielle. She ignored the children’s groan, saying, ‘We’ll go on the ferry. It’s ages since I’ve crossed the Mersey on a boat.’
‘What about Kenny?’ asked Tilly. ‘He’ll know about Dad by now but if he’s coming with us, he needs to get here quickly.’
‘He’s probably already thought of that and is on his way back to Liverpool right now,’ said Seb.
So it proved because Kenny arrived only an hour later in a taxi. Seb had taken the opportunity to top up the tank with petrol and had also filled a spare can. They wasted no time but set off for Scotland. Without even a change of knickers, thought Alice, depressed and anxious at having to leave her children with their grandmother. It had occurred to her that her father might be dead by the time they got to the hospital and found herself remembering the past.
‘The last time I went to Glasgow was with Dad,’ she said, ‘We were in a train crash and he was badly injured. I thought he would die then.’
‘You’ve never told me this before,’ said Tilly, hugging her sister’s arm.
‘That’s because I left him to die. I needed to escape from him.’ Alice’s voice shook.
‘But he didn’t die,’ said Tilly.
‘No. He’s like a cat with nine lives.’
‘Well, let’s hope he doesn’t run out of lives before we get there,’ said Seb.
If Tilly had not been so desperate to reach Glasgow as quickly as possible, she might have enjoyed the journey north, passing through some of the most beautiful countryside in Britain. As it was, she gazed at it unseeingly and could remember little of it later when she looked back on that journey.
It was a nightmare getting through the centre of Glasgow and Seb had to ask a policeman to direct them to the Royal Infirmary. It turned out to be on the edge of the city centre in Castle Street, next to the cathedral. The hospital was a huge building and Tilly’s heart sank, wondering how they were going to find her father in such a place. She need not have worried. While Seb found somewhere to park the car, Kenny took charge and before long they were being led along what felt like corridor after corridor to the ward where Mal had been taken. His head was bandaged so that all that showed of his face were his eyes, which were closed.
Tilly reached for one of his bandaged hands and held it firmly. ‘Dad!’ she cried.
There was no response. She was aware that Alice and Kenny exchanged looks and guessed that they were of the opinion that she was wasting her time and that their father would not survive.
‘Do talk to him,’ said the ward sister in a soft Scottish brogue. ‘It’s possible that he might be able to hear ye. At the least, he could sense that yer here.’
‘You’re from the west coast, aren’t you?’ said Kenny.
‘Aye,’ she said, smiling at him.
‘I have family there. I haven’t seen them for ages but my father grew up in Greenock.’
‘He’s come home then,’ said the ward sister gently. ‘I’ll leave yer to spend some time alone with him.’
Tilly looked at Kenny and no words were needed for what they were both thinking. Alice said, ‘I never imagined this scene in all my life.’ Her voice was just a thread of sound.
‘Tell him you forgive him,’ said Tilly.
Alice did not move a muscle but just stared at that still figure in the bed. She tried to remember what their father had looked like when she was a child. He had always been a handsome man and even in old age he had kept some of his looks. She thought of her mother and how she had died giving birth to Tilly. She glanced at Kenny and saw that he was gazing down at their father. What was he remembering? The violence, the fear of the crazy man their father had been then? Yet when Kenny was just a tot, their father had run from his cruel bigot of a mother, taking his son with him to England. In Chester he had met Alice’s mother and she had fallen in love with the handsome Scotsman and married him. Surely she must have seen the need in him, as well as some goodness.
Alice’s eyes filled with tears and she reached out a trembling hand and placed it gently on Mal’s head. ‘I forgive you, Dad. May God forgive you, too.’ Her voice was barely above a whisper and she could only hope that he could hear her.
The three of them stayed there until their father slipped away an hour later. ‘It was as if he hung on just waiting for us to come,’ said Tilly, wiping away her tears.
Alice was the first to leave the bedside and went in search of Seb. She found him in the entrance hall downstairs and did not need to tell him what had happened. He said that he could tell from her face that she had done what was right.
Afterwards, when the four of them left the hospital, they went in search of a hotel and a meal. When they had reached the coffee stage, Kenny said, ‘There’s decisions we have to make.’
‘Where he’s to be buried,’ said Tilly. ‘Where else but here in Scotland with your mother. It’s what he wanted.’
‘And it’s convenient,’ added Alice. ‘It’s almost as if he arranged it.’
‘Maybe he did,’ said Tilly sadly.
‘I have the deeds to Mother’s grave,’ said Kenny. ‘My grandmother gave them to me. I brought them with me in case I needed them.’
‘How long will it take to arrange his funeral,’ asked Alice. ‘Only I don’t want to leave the children too long.’
Kenny hesitated before saying, ‘Why don’t you and Seb go home and leave the rest to me and Tilly?’
Alice looked at Seb, he nodded, and then at her sister. ‘I agree with Kenny,’ said Tilly. ‘You’ve done what was needed and you’ve the children to think about. You don’t want Seb’s mother reaching the stage where she starts tearing her hair out.’
Alice grinned and, leaning across the table, kissed Tilly on the cheek. ‘You do realise this means you can come home to Chester.’
‘Don’t rush the girl,’ chided Seb. ‘Let her decide for herself what she wants to do after the funeral.’
Tilly said, �
�Thanks. I need time to think through a few things.’
‘I wonder if Dad had burial insurance,’ said Kenny.
‘Eudora Bennett would have known,’ said Seb. ‘You’re going to have to go through his things when you get back, Tilly. Right now there’s probably enough money in the business account to pay for the funeral.’
‘And if he did have insurance then it can be paid out of the funds when the policy is handed in,’ said Alice.
With that agreed no more was said on the matter.
The following day Tilly and Kenny waved Seb and Alice off before going to pick up the death certificate from the hospital. Then they visited an undertaker, who arranged for a minister to visit them at the hotel. He was sympathetic but businesslike and a short private service was arranged in three days’ time. In the interim, Kenny visited his cousins on his mother’s side, and Tilly went shopping in Sauchiehall Street, where she bought a small holdall, some blacks, underwear and toiletries with money that Kenny gave her. She also visited the cathedral, the library, the museum, art gallery and the cinema, not wanting to think too much about the future just yet.
On the day of the funeral the weather was fair and, although Tilly still felt sad and the service and burial had a dreamlike feeling to it, she managed to keep her chin up and control her tears. Even so, she was glad when it was all over and she could return to Liverpool.
Part Three
October 1921 – March 1922
Chapter Twenty-Four
‘Are you there, Joy?’ Tilly knocked on the kitchen door and opened it.
Joy placed the last batch of scones in the oven and straightened up, dusting flour from her hands. ‘Tilly! I heard you were back. How are you, love?’
‘I’m OK. I was sorry to miss Mrs Bennett’s funeral. How is Mr Bennett?’
‘He’s as well as can be expected in the circumstances,’ said Joy, gazing at Tilly’s slim black-clad figure. ‘He wants to talk to you.’
‘About the car Dad smashed up?’
‘No! Of course not. It’s something completely different,’ said Joy.
Tilly thought there was a slight air of suppressed excitement about her. ‘How are the Doyles?’
‘They’ve gone to the orphanage.’ Joy sighed. ‘It wasn’t an easy thing for him to do but Mr Bennett couldn’t cope with them here anymore.’
Tilly sat down. ‘I suppose I should have expected that. It won’t be what Patricia wanted. She was worried about them being separated.’
‘It’s better than living on the streets,’ said Joy firmly. ‘I was talking to one of the policemen the other week and he was saying that the number of barefooted child beggars around is a disgrace, and you missed the riots at the Walker Art Gallery. Thousands of unemployed stormed the place because there was a meeting being held inside and they felt they weren’t properly represented.’
‘I don’t know what I’m going to do,’ said Tilly. ‘Somehow I feel that the Friends won’t want my services now Mrs Bennett’s dead. It was she I really worked for and now the concert is over, I feel that part of my life is finished with.’
‘You still have your job with Mr Simpson,’ said Joy, ‘although what about your writing? You should be getting back to that.’
‘I wish I could,’ said Tilly. ‘As it is, I’ll have to ask Grant Simpson if he can take me on full time.’ She sighed. ‘Where is Mr Bennett? I want his permission to go and sort Dad’s things out.’
‘He’s in the drawing room. He’s decided to give up the orchestra and give music lessons here in the house.’
Tilly smiled. ‘He said he wanted to do that – although I have to confess I thought he might sell up and move away.’
‘You mean because of all of the things that have happened here?’ asked Joy.
Tilly nodded. ‘I thought he might think it an unlucky house.’
Joy shook her head. ‘He’s not superstitious and he likes the house - loves it being near the park and his sister’s close by, and he can easily jump on a tram and go into town if he wants.’
‘I’ll go and see him then,’ said Tilly.
The words were hardly out of her mouth when the door opened and Robbie appeared. ‘It is you, Tilly. I thought I heard your voice. I’m sorry about your dad, love.’
‘Thanks. And I’m sorry I missed Mrs Bennett’s funeral.’
‘Not a happy time for either of us,’ he said, rubbing his neck. ‘But life goes on.’
‘I wanted to ask you if I could sort out Dad’s things?’
He smiled. ‘Of course you can. They belong to you, anyway. The solicitor will be getting in touch with you but I can say now that Mal was one of the beneficiaries in my wife’s will. She also had him make a will and I was one of the witnesses. I can tell you that he left you everything, Tilly, which means you inherit the sum that my wife left him.’
Tilly was stunned. ‘Are you saying that he didn’t leave anything to Kenny or Alice?’
‘Yes. But remember that at the time he had no idea that Eudora would leave him money. It’s fortunate for you that he died after her. I know she never gave him a proper wage during the time he worked for her. But that was because he was perfectly content having a roof over his head and with her providing him with pocket money and seeing to it that he was kept as healthy as possible. At the time she made her will, she said that she wanted to see him right. She left him a thousand pounds, which will now be yours, Tilly.’
Tilly felt suddenly faint and sank onto a chair.
‘I’ll make you a cup of tea,’ said Joy.
‘I’ll leave you two to it, then,’ said Robbie. ‘I’m just going to go into town to Crane’s to buy some sheet music and look at a couple of instruments.’ He closed the door on them.
‘I can’t believe it,’ said Tilly, shaking her head. ‘I feel like nothing is real anymore.’
‘She left me money, too,’ said Joy, smiling. ‘Mr Bennett wants me to stay on as his housekeeper and I will. But I’ve told him I need a holiday, so when I get my hands on the money, I’m going to take Mother away to give our Hanny and Kenny a break.’
‘They’ll enjoy that,’ said Tilly, her eyes brightening. ‘They’ve had so little time on their own since they married, what with helping to bring me up, as well.’ She paused. ‘Listen, don’t bother with the tea. I’ll make myself one down at Dad’s place. I need to find the burial insurance policy, if he had one.’
‘Oh, he did,’ said Joy. ‘It’s with his will, which is with the solicitor but you might still want to go down there and sort things out.’
‘I do. And will you come with me to see the solicitor once I’ve made an appointment?’
Joy nodded. ‘Of course I will. I’m sure Mr Bennett will allow me the time off.’
Tilly thanked her and, leaving the house, went down the garden to the outhouse. The door wasn’t locked and she let herself in and immediately it was as if her father was there beside her. She could even hear him talking in her head but it wasn’t spooky at all. She went upstairs and into his living quarters but decided not to bother making a cup of tea. Besides, she had no milk.
She wandered around the room, touching this and that and inspecting the few clothes he possessed. She picked up the tin that she remembered peeking inside when he had left her alone once. She opened it and emptied out its contents onto the table: pebbles, peacock feather, coins, fir cones and the bird button. She remembered him picking it up off the ground and putting it in his pocket. She noticed that there were a few threads of khaki cotton attached to it and her brows puckered. It suddenly occurred to her that the button might have some connection with the body that her father had found. Perhaps she should give it to the police. The button might be important.
Tilly put everything back in the tin, including the button, and took it outside with her. She was going to need some bags for her father’s clothes and would need to wash them before giving them to the church jumble.
As she went up the garden, a voice said, ‘So you’re back.’<
br />
Tilly did not bother turning her head towards the fence. ‘It looks like it. Is Leonard home?’
‘No. He’s tied up for a few days. Business.’
Tilly thought he seemed to be away more than he was home. She thanked the woman and carried on towards the house. As she entered the kitchen, Joy said, ‘I forgot to tell you, Tilly, that there was another beneficiary in Mrs Bennett’s will.’ She chuckled.
‘What’s so funny?’ asked Tilly.
‘You know Mrs Bennett had shares in Kenny and Seb’s business?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, she’s left them to Alice.’
‘You have to be kidding!’
‘No. Mrs Bennett’s sense of humour could be a bit malicious at times. Mr Bennett said the solicitor has written to Alice informing her of her good fortune.’
‘I’d like to be there when she receives that letter,’ murmured Tilly. ‘I think I’ll go and visit the family today. Tell them about my good fortune. I’ll be back tomorrow.’ She placed the tin in her large capacious handbag and left the house.
* * *
Seb picked up the afternoon post and glanced through it as he made his way to the dining room. He was surprised to see an official-looking envelope addressed to Alice. He squinted at the postmark and saw that the letter was from Liverpool. Naturally, he was curious about the sender. Surely it couldn’t be from Tilly because she must have only just arrived back in Liverpool.
‘Letter for you, love,’ he said, dropping the envelope on the breakfast table.
‘For me?’ exclaimed Alice in surprise.
The children glanced at her.
‘You don’t have to sound as if nobody ever writes to you,’ said Seb, good humouredly. He watched his wife rip open the envelope and unfold a single sheet of paper. ‘Who’s it from?’ he asked.
‘It’s from a solicitor.’ She glanced at Seb. ‘Why should a Liverpool solicitor be writing to me?’
‘Don’t ask me. Why don’t you read it?’
Alice did so with mounting incredulity and then anger.
