by Maggie Ford
Julia couldn’t envisage her mother ever marrying again. She was a person who did not make friends with other women easily; it seemed even less likely that she would ever meet another man to marry. It was true that this new decade since the end of the war, with its forward-looking attitudes, had dispensed with many of the old Victorian standards, but she couldn’t see her mother keeping up with the times.
Julia stared down into the grave where the coffin now lay. As they buried her dead father, she hoped her mother would not descend into a living burial and hide herself away from the busy world.
The vicar was intoning the final words of the ritual: ‘… the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Ghost be with us all evermore. Amen.’
Julia came to herself with a jolt. People were beginning to move away slowly and quietly, as if leaving too hurriedly would be almost irreverent. Someone had come up to her mother and was embracing her, immediately prompting an outburst of tears. Stephanie and Virginia had also gathered tearfully around her. Julia stood back and waited. It was all she could bring herself to do.
Chester’s arm came about her waist. ‘Are you all right, darling?’ he asked gently as she looked up into his handsome face. She forced a smile.
‘Yes,’ she replied, love springing up at the sound of his voice. ‘But I’ll be so glad to get back into the car.’
‘Of course,’ he said and began guiding her away from the deserted graveside. ‘But first you ought to go over to comfort your mother. She looks utterly drained, it’s to be expected.’
‘I’ll do that in the car,’ she replied. A strange sense of panic was building inside her; a desperate desire to be away from the place. ‘I’ll need you to be with me, darling.’
‘I can’t, my love,’ he reminded her. ‘I’ll have to be with my parents in theirs.’
‘I forgot.’ She wilted a little, glancing across at the two black, box-shaped limousines that had crawled to the cemetery behind the horse-drawn hearse, now departed. Her mother, wishing to keep to the old style for her husband’s sake, had insisted on the hearse and its black-plumed horses with their padded hooves. ‘But I would much sooner be with you, Chester,’ she added sadly.
He bent and gave her a swift but loving kiss. ‘You will be when we reach your home. We’ll have a quick glass of wine and a brief bite to eat, make our condolences then perhaps go off somewhere quiet and be together. I still haven’t given you your ring, my love. I couldn’t before, under the circumstances.’
He hesitated out of respect to her feelings, and then began again: ‘Well, it’s done now, and I think it time we got on with matters that concern us. I mean setting a date for our wedding.’
An hour later, having made dutiful conversation with the few mourners who had gone back to the house, and attempted to console her mother without getting too caught up in the tears of grief that each embrace prompted, Julia and Chester sat holding hands on a bench by Victoria Park Lake while strollers sauntered by, enjoying the afternoon sunshine.
The day of mourning seemed far away as Chester extracted from a little blue velvet box the lovely engagement ring with its band of five huge white diamonds and gently eased it on to the third finger of her left hand.
His words, ‘Marry me, darling, be my wife,’ set her blood tingling, her heart racing with joy.
‘Yes,’ she breathed, ‘with all my heart.’
‘I love you very much, my dearest,’ he told her quietly.
‘And I love you too, so very much,’ she whispered as he kissed her, a long fingering kiss that had passers-by smiling. But she didn’t notice or care.
* * *
Victoria Longfield had never felt so alone – abandoned, almost.
‘We’re engaged!’ Julia had come home to announce, flashing her ring for her mother to see, Chester standing behind her, smiling. And on such a day! Victoria couldn’t help herself; she burst out, ‘Your father was buried only this very morning,’ before fresh tears welled up and overflowed.
Her other three children, sitting beside her on the sofa where they had been comforting her since the departure of mourners from the house, had gasped but Victoria had had more to say through distraught gulping.
‘Doesn’t that matter to you? How could you both be so cruel? Could it not have waited at least a few more weeks? Are you so indifferent to my poor feelings, Julia, and to the loss of your dear father?’
Julia’s eyes, glowing with joy a moment before, had grown bleak.
‘I know, Mummy. Believe me, I’m grief-stricken too, but how could I refuse Chester’s proposal? It means everything to me. It doesn’t alter how much I miss Father or how you must feel.’
‘But to tell me now, while I’m pulled down with grief.’
‘I’m sorry. And I know how you are grieving but please, Mummy, be happy for me.’
She broke off, realizing how insensitive her words must sound, how they must have pierced her mother’s heart. Immediately mortified, she knelt before her while Chester stood awkwardly by.
‘It was going to happen some time soon, Mummy,’ she tried to placate.
‘Why today of all days? Was your engagement so urgent that you couldn’t delay it a few months?’
But a few months would not have made any difference. The blow of losing her daughter to marriage would have been just as hard to bear later. Julia knew her mother, almost knew her next words would be the same come next month, next year: ‘I have been left all alone. Your dear father has been taken from me, now you’re leaving me…’
‘You’ve still got Virginia and Stephanie,’ Julia reminded her. ‘And James.’
‘James!’ she heard the desolation in her mother’s tone. ‘He’ll be at university – and much he cares for me, his mother. Like his father…’
Victoria broke off suddenly. She hadn’t meant to say that. The pent-up frustration of years of hiding the loneliness she had so often felt, her hurt at finding herself put aside, her need for his companionship ignored by her husband, had burst out in those three last words.
Immediately she tried to make amends with some sort of explanation.
‘This whole family survived the terrible flu epidemic two years ago when so many loved ones died. I would tell myself I should be grateful for that during those times I felt forsaken; all those evenings when your father left me here on my own while he entertained his business colleagues. Now I have lost him altogether and that is a judgement on me for being so self-pitying. Not that I ever complained to your father’s face. And now you are saying that you too will soon be leaving me – that too feels like a judgement on me.’
Her words must have raised some small prick of conscience for Julia had thrown herself into her mother’s arms. ‘I didn’t know, Mummy. But it’s going to be all right, honestly it is. I shall make sure I’m always here for you.’
Futile words! Victoria had caught a glimpse of Chester standing a little apart from them, his features tight, and had instantly read his expression: ‘As my wife she’ll be there for me, not here for your every whim.’
Turning her eyes away from him, she had found a little courage to vow that from now on she would never lower herself to ask for Julia’s help if her daughter didn’t offer it of her own accord; never again would she do anything to earn another look like the one Julia’s future husband had just given her.
* * *
With her small family beside her, Victoria sat opposite Mr Grantham, her deceased husband’s solicitor, at the dining room table.
A letter from him earlier had mentioned an urgent matter that he needed to discuss concerning her late husband’s estate. For some reason it had instilled in her a feeling of apprehension which wasn’t soothed by the man’s grim expression now as he shuffled through the papers he’d extracted from his leather briefcase.
After what seemed an age, he looked up, his gaze resting momentarily on Julia. She was the only one here sitting bolt upright, her head held high, while her mother and two sisters still drooped in grief
. But it was right that he address the widow of his deceased client.
‘My dear Mrs Longfield,’ he began. He had acted on behalf of her late husband’s business from the time Charles had inherited it from his father, Edgar James Longfield, for whom he’d also acted in that man’s later years. He himself had then been a very young solicitor. Yet in all those years he had set eyes on Victoria Longfield on only one occasion; exactly when, he couldn’t recall.
‘My wife is a very retiring person,’ had been Longfield’s excuse in response to Grantham’s invitation to dine with him and his wife soon after the man had inherited from his late father. ‘I shall be pleased to accept, Grantham, but my wife feels she must decline.’
He had never offered again; business had been done either in Longfield’s office or his own, at his club or in a restaurant.
Sitting opposite the thin, gaunt-faced widow, who seemed ready to break down at any moment, he felt uneasy at the news he was about to impart to this small gathering.
Julia frowned at the pause that followed Mr Grantham’s opening words. His expression was solemn and he leaned towards her, his forearms resting on the table, as if to soften the blow of what he was about to say.
‘My dear Mrs Longfield,’ he said again, his tone lowering, ‘before we begin I must tell you that what I have to say could be somewhat unsettling news. I am not quite sure if you are aware, Mrs Longfield, but regrettably your late husband never got round to making a will despite my warnings of the peril of not doing so.’
Julia reached out and took her mother’s arm as she slowly realized what this news might mean, her hand going to her lips in dismay. She spoke for her mother. ‘He was a businessman. He must have made a will of some sort. Maybe it was years ago when he and my mother first married?’
The solicitor looked faintly irritated by her interference. ‘I assure you, my dear Miss Longfield, no will has ever been made.’ He turned his attention back to her mother. ‘I urged your husband to do so many times over the years but he always said that everything would automatically go to you as his wife and after your demise to your children. He refused to take my advice that such a course would mean delay. I regret to say it but your late husband was a man who preferred to keep his affairs to himself despite my being his solicitor. I’m sure he resented my intrusion. I regret that he tended to mistrust professional people intensely.’
That mistrust extended to his family, thought Julia. She knew all too well how immovable her father could be, keeping his affairs as close to his chest as a poker player, the smallest slight harboured for years, and ever suspicious of the motives of others, even those of his own family. Cold was a word that came to mind; unapproachable, he had made few friends. Why her mother had married him was beyond her, but Mummy had little spirit of her own and had probably needed the security and guidance of a husband.
‘It is to be understood’, Grantham continued, ‘Mr Longfield once had to dismiss his accountant for dishonesty and from then on he did his own bookkeeping, despite my advice to engage another, more reliable, honest person.’
‘He never said a word of it to us,’ Julia burst out but was ignored as he continued to address her mother.
‘I have to say he would have been better served taking my advice. He was no bookkeeper. A good accountant would have cautioned him against gambling on the stock market. A weakness, I am sad to relate, that finally led him into disastrous debt.’
‘What do you mean by disastrous debt?’ Julia demanded and he seemed about to ignore her yet again, she raised her voice. ‘Mr Grantham, I need to ask, what disastrous debt?’
The man looked at her, holding her gaze. ‘I regret to have to tell you your father was declared bankrupt the day before his death.’
He switched his gaze to the widow as she gasped like one stabbed. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Longfield, your husband borrowed extensively from his bank to cover his losses on the stock market. He allowed himself to be ill advised in his dealings and was exceedingly unlucky or foolhardy. Finally the banks refused to advance any more credit. He then went to others for money.’
Grantham paused then went on. ‘I am sorry if this sounds brutal but it has to be said. The business, all his assets, even this house will be going to pay his creditors. Forgive me but it may be that the worry may even have contributed to his fatal heart attack.’
There followed a hovering silence, even Julia stunned. While he’d been talking, her mother’s body had slowly wilted so that she had to put her arms about her to support her, with Stephanie on her other side doing the same.
‘Please,’ Julia entreated, ‘I think my mother has heard enough.’
‘I am sorry, my dear.’ There was just a hint of apology in his tone. ‘In any other circumstances I would enquire if you’d prefer me to return at some later date, but your late father’s creditors are already clamouring for their money. This business has to be settled so that we may salvage something from this regrettable mess. Mrs Longfield, do you have money of your own?’
‘I don’t know.’ Her voice emerged, weak and shaky. ‘I’m not sure.’
‘Your husband gave you an allowance, I take it, my dear. You must have savings of some sort.’
‘I…’ the voice faltered then strengthened just a little. ‘It was only a very small one. I left it to him to manage everything.’
‘How did you pay the household bills, staff wages, that sort of thing?’
‘I left it to my husband. He knows – knew – more about money than I.’
‘And clothing?’ The man sounded incredulous.
‘I have a clothing allowance – for myself and my two younger daughters. Julia is twenty-one, she has her own allowance. All else he would…’ Her words began to fail her in a welter of uncertainty. Julia held on to her.
‘My mother is distraught, Mr Grantham. My father always saw to it that she had ample money for her needs.’ She found herself defending her father as well as her mother. ‘He never stinted us, Mr Grantham. My mother was content with the arrangement. She trusted him and he saw to it that we were kept in more than sufficient comfort.’
As she spoke, Julia felt her hackles rise that while her allowance had been more than adequate, her mother had always been content to rely on her husband for her family’s needs, maybe by mutual agreement made years ago.
‘So as far as you know there is very little to fall back on but your allowance?’ the solicitor queried.
Julia pulled her thoughts together. ‘It seems so,’ she said sharply, suddenly visualizing what the future held for them if there wasn’t enough to live on.
‘What about your family?’ Grantham turned to her mother. ‘Could they not help?’
Victoria lifted her head to regard him with a hopeless look. ‘My family?’ she repeated in a faint tone before lapsing into silence. ‘I have no family.’
Her family had been far less wealthy than Charles’s. Her father had managed a small hardware store. There had been two younger brothers who had carried it on after the death of their father in 1909. Both had been killed in the Great War. The shop, by then somewhat run down, was sold and her mother had managed on the proceeds with a little help from Victoria until she died. There were no close relatives, Victoria’s two sisters-in-law having drifted away after being widowed, one to remarry, the other to return to Yorkshire.
‘I’ve no surviving family to speak of,’ she repeated.
‘Then your husband’s family?’ reminded Grantham. ‘Could you not appeal to them for help?’
Victoria shook her head. ‘I don’t think they…’ She broke off. This persistent questioning, almost interrogation, was beginning to cause her more distress than she felt already.
Charles’s father had died many years ago leaving the import business to him and his brother but the two had fallen out over their legacy and never again spoke to each other. His brother now lived in Canada. She had no idea where. As for the rest of the family, they had always considered Charles had married beneath him and h
ad little time for her. Now she was widowed what reason had they to involve themselves in what now promised to become a severe financial crisis?
‘He had a brother,’ she said feebly, not wanting to discuss the family. ‘But he went to Canada years ago. I don’t know which part of Canada.’
‘We might probably be able to trace him for you.’
‘What good would that do?’ Julia cut in, in defence of her mother’s obvious growing discomfort. ‘He and my father quarrelled. They never spoke to each other again. My father maintained the argument was his brother’s fault and so do I. We don’t need to go cap in hand to him or any of them.’
Whether or not her mother agreed didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to let her be degraded any further by that family, if there were any of them left.
‘So you’ve no one at all to call upon?’ Grantham queried.
‘Apparently not,’ Julia returned haughtily.
‘If your uncle is still alive we’ll endeavour to contact him. What is his name?’
Julia looked towards her mother, hearing her respond in a faint tone, ‘Albert,’ the last consonant fading as the poor woman almost choked on it.
‘Albert Longfield.’ Grantham rolled it over on his tongue as he stood up to gather his papers and return them to his briefcase. ‘We will do our best, Mrs Longfield. One never knows what may come of it. There is always hope. But you must not be left destitute. If it comes to it, until something is settled, you might consider appealing to one of the many charities.’
Never! Julia heard the word in her head, as the man stood up, his business concluded for the present.
Four
It took only seconds from Grantham’s leaving for Julia’s bitter reaction to his parting suggestion to vanish. Seek aid from charitable organizations? No, certainly not. Her family would be fine. She’d see to that if it killed her!
Stephanie was helping their mother from the dining room. Victoria seemed to have no strength left in her body. Julia and Virginia followed them into the parlour where Stephanie eased her mother into an armchair as if she were an invalid. But Julia’s heart was growing lighter by the minute.
