Fourpenny Flyer

by Beryl Kingston

  It gave him a shock, but there was pleasure as well as pain in the emotions that raced through his mind and made his heart throb and his eyes sting with tears. ‘Oh my darling,’ he said. ‘You are not gone for ever.’ And then he had to sit down, because his legs were suddenly no support to him at all.

  He hung the completed portrait in his bedroom, where it would be the first thing he would see when he woke in the morning and the last to ease his misery before he slept. The painted figure glowed like moonstone against the warm red of Harriet’s chosen wallpaper and wherever he was in the room her loving eyes seemed to follow and watch over him. The comfort it brought him was quite extraordinary.

  And then just as he was beginning to sleep without nightmares, a letter arrived from his mother to warn him that the Sowerbys were out to make trouble. She enclosed a letter from them in which they demanded to be told ‘if any arrangements for the upbringing and education of Harriet’s two children has been taken in hand, it being imperative that they should both know as soon as possible what plans are being made for them.’

  He looked from their black underscoring to the pale patience of their poor dead daughter and made up his mind at once. Billy could care for the company for a day or two while he went to Bury to look after his children.

  He took a seat on the next available coach, and arrived in Angel Hill just as Will and Nan were eating their supper. ‘We will see them,’ he said, ‘and settle all this for good and all.’

  ‘Yes,’ Nan said grimly. ‘We’ll all see ’em. Now then, Will, eat up sharpish. We’ve preparations to make. Grandpa and Grandma Sowerby are a-coming.’

  ‘What for?’ he asked fearfully.

  ‘Well now, my dear, as to that, we shall see.’

  Poor Will worried about it for the next two days. What if they were coming to take him away? Their letter had said, ‘upbringing and education of Harriet’s two children’. He knew because he’d looked. Did that mean they were going to bring him up? Oh he couldn’t bear that. It would be terrible. But Nanna had promised he should stay with her for ever. And Nanna always kept her promises. So perhaps they weren’t coming for him. Perhaps they only wanted the baby. And if that were the case, everything would be all right. They could have the baby and welcome. It wasn’t a bit interesting. And it was only a baby.

  Even so, when Thursday afternoon arrived bringing Pollyanna and Hannah and the baby, and he was sat on the low stool in the parlour, between Nan’s blue chair and his father’s black one to await his other grandparents, his heart was beating so violently it was making his jacket tremble.

  ‘They’re ’ere!’ Bessie said, peering round the door. ‘Bold as brass if you please. The nerve of ’em!’

  ‘Show them up, Bessie,’ Nanna said. ‘Tell Pollyanna I’d be obliged if she’d bring baby down. Sit up nicely, there’s a good boy, Will.’

  He obeyed, taut with apprehension, sitting bolt upright on the stool, his pale hands spread like lilies against the grey cloth of his trousers. Grandma and Grandpa Sowerby! It chilled him to the marrow just to think of them.

  They were in the doorway, smiling their horrible false smiles, expecting to be kissed. Grandma Sowerby’s nose was longer than ever and there were three new bristles on her chin. Oh I can’t go and live with her, Nanna. You mustn’t let me!

  ‘Well now,’ Nanna was saying, ‘I believe you wished to speak to me on the matter of the upbringing and education of these two children. That was the case, was it not?’

  Papa was sitting very still in his black chair, not saying a word.

  ‘Indeed it was, ma’am,’ Mr Sowerby said, folding his hands across his waistcoat and considering them thoughtfully. ‘High time, ma’am. High time. So many children go to the bad these days, ma’am. We must do all in our power to ensure that these two unfortunate little ones do not number among them, must we not?’

  ‘The boy is already entered for the grammar school,’ Nan said smoothly, ‘as I daresay you know, since it was Harriet’s doing. Did you have another establishment in mind?’

  ‘No, no,’ Mr Sowerby hastened to assure, glancing at Papa, who still didn’t say anything. ‘I am sure his academic education could quite safely be left in the hands of that establishment. It has an excellent reputation. How-somever, his moral education is another matter. Oh yes, quite another matter indeed.’

  ‘And into whose hands would ’ee suggest that we commit that?’ Nan asked, smiling just a little too sweetly.

  ‘Well now, ma’am,’ Mrs Sowerby said, ‘as to that, it would appear to me that we should endeavour to find two persons of the highest and most Christian sensibilities, who would make it their life work – I think I may safely say that – their life work to foster the very highest moral tone in both these unfortunate children.’

  ‘Such as yourselves, for instance,’ Nan smiled.

  ‘Well,’ Mrs Sowerby preened, ‘if you say so. We are peculiarly well qualified in this regard.’

  She can’t mean it, Will thought, beginning to panic. She’s not going to make me live with Grandma Sowerby. Not after her promise. And he tried to catch Nanna’s eye, and couldn’t do it.

  ‘Do tell me,’ she was saying calmly, ‘do ’ee have a moral code, Mr and Mrs Sowerby? A set of precepts, perhaps, by which you would ensure that no child in your care would ever go to the bad?’

  ‘Ho, indeed we do,’ Mr Sowerby said. ‘Spare the rod and spoil the child you know.’

  ‘So the children will be beaten if they are placed in your care?’

  Oh no, no. Please, Nanna.

  ‘Of course. Whenever it is necessary.’

  ‘As you beat your daughter?’ Papa said suddenly and his voice was as cold as ice.

  Mr Sowerby showed a flicker of surprise at John’s sudden intervention, but he answered stoutly, ‘Chastisement is a necessary part of correction, sir. All children need chastisement.’

  ‘You will lock these children in dark rooms, I daresay?’ Papa went on.

  ‘When they require such treatment.’

  No, no.

  ‘And feed them on a diet of bread and water?’

  ‘When it is necessary, yes, indeed we would. Children have such tempestuous spirits. They are like wild horses, sir, like wild horses. They need a deal of taming.’

  Papa please, look at me. I don’t want to be tamed like a horse. Nanna, say something!

  ‘As you tamed, Harriet?’ Nan mused, looking at Mr Sowerby sharply.

  ‘In my opinion,’ Mrs Sowerby put in, sensing criticism, ‘we were altogether too lenient with Harriet. We should have dealt with her with far greater severity.’

  ‘That’s as may be, my dear,’ Mr Sowerby said, feeling that they were getting sidetracked and that he ought to change direction while he could. ‘Howsomever, we did not come here this afternoon to discuss our Harriet. We came to settle the future of these two poor unfortunate little ones. But there you are, Mrs Sowerby, perhaps we are wasting our time. Perhaps Mrs Easter does not intend to allow us our rights in this matter.’

  ‘On the contrary,’ Nan said, grinning at him. ‘I have every intention of allowing everybody’s rights in the matter.’

  They were both very surprised and looked at it.

  ‘What ’ee both seem to have forgot,’ Nan went on, ‘is that others have opinions too.’

  ‘Others?’ Mrs Sowerby said.

  ‘Others, ma’am. The children. Will and Caroline.’

  ‘Caroline is a babe-in-arms, ma’am.’

  ‘But Will has a mind of his own. Don’t ’ee, my lambkin?’

  ‘Yes, Nanna.’

  ‘So Will shall tell us. Would ’ee like to go and live with Grandpa and Grandma Sowerby?’

  ‘No, Nanna. I would not.’

  ‘And what of your sister? Should we let her go, do ’ee think?’

  Will looked across to where the baby was lying in Pollyanna’s arms, holding onto her forefinger with its entire fist. She looked very small and soft and vulnerable. ‘She is my sister,’ he
said, understanding what he meant as he was saying the words. ‘No, Nanna. She mustn’t go.’ He couldn’t allow her to be beaten and starved and locked in dark rooms. ‘She is my sister and I love her.’

  ‘Well that’s settled then,’ Nanna said, dusting the palms of her hands against each other, swish, swish. ‘The children stay with me. I wish you good day, sir. Good day, ma’am.’

  ‘If you imagine for one moment,’ Mrs Sowerby said furiously, ‘that we intend to allow this matter to be settled on the word of a child, you are very much mistaken. A child! I never heard of anything so preposterous. I shall take this to the highest court in the land.’

  ‘Where you will be roundly defeated, ma’am. Good day to ’ee,’ Nan said, holding open the door.

  ‘We are well and away the best people to be entrusted with the care of these children,’ Mr Sowerby said fiercely, ‘as any magistrate would allow. When you consider how we brought up their mother …’

  ‘Oh yes?’ Nan said acidly. ‘And how would ’ee describe her manner of upbringing, pray?’

  To Will’s amazement, Papa suddenly sprang up out of his chair and strode across the room. His face was so angry that for a few wonderful seconds Will thought he was going to pick Grandpa Sowerby up by the scruff of his neck and throw him out of the window.

  ‘Short of killing her,’ he said, ‘I don’t see how you could have treated my poor wife any worse than you did. Except that now I come to think of it, I’m not at all sure you haven’t done something every bit as bad. You took away her will to live, dear gentle creature that she was, and that amounts to much the same thing. I don’t forget your visit to her when this baby was being born, nor how badly you treated her then. And I certainly don’t forget any of the dreadful things you did to her when she was a little more than a child. You beat her, sir. You starved her. You locked her in dark rooms. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves, the both of you, not strutting round here demanding another child to torment. You haven’t an ounce of love in your natures.’

  He was so splendid in his anger that Will was lost in admiration for him, for he knew now, and beyond any doubt, that his father would love him and protect him, always and always, and never let him go to anybody else, no matter what might happen.

  Mrs Sowerby sucked in her breath with fury. ‘Do ’ee accuse us of killing our own very own daughter?’ she said, her voice rising in disbelief and anger.

  ‘Have a care, sir,’ Mr Sowerby blustered. ‘We could take ’ee to court for such unseemly utterances.’

  ‘And have your wrong-doing emblazoned in every newspaper in the land?’ Papa mocked. ‘Oh, I think not. You are not such fools as that.’

  ‘Aaagh!’ Mrs Sowerby shrieked, flinging herself backwards onto the carpet. ‘Now I’ve took a fit! Look! Look! See how ill you make me!’ And she began to writhe about, arching her back and groaning. ‘Did I not tell ’ee t’would come to this?’ she asked her husband.

  ‘Now see what you’ve done!’ Mr Sowerby said, with great satisfaction as the shrieking and frothing progressed.

  ‘I’ll soon have her cured of that,’ Nan said. ‘Don’t ’ee fret.’ And she stepped round the body and strode to the door. ‘Rosie!’ she yelled above the din. ‘Rosie! Jug! Quick as you can!’

  Rosie was so quick she must have been hiding just round the corner. She was in the room before Nan had stopped shouting, and she’d brought the jug, which was the biggest ewer in the house. It was full of water and so heavy it was making her stagger.

  ‘Thank ’ee,’ Nan said. And she took the jug and balanced it on her hip. ‘You’ve played this trick for the last time, my lady,’ she said, ‘it might ha’ worked with your poor Harriet, but it don’t cut ice with me.’ And she emptied the water all over Mrs Sowerby’s writhing body, drenching her from head to knee.

  The fit was cured at once. It was quite miraculous. The screaming stopped instantly. Mrs Sowerby gulped, sat up, and stared at her opponent with disbelief. ‘I am soaking wet,’ she said.

  ‘And like to be even wetter,’ Nan promised, ‘if ’ee don’t get up this minute and leave my house. Another jugful Rosie, if you please.’

  ‘One for the lummox, eh Mrs Easter?’ Rosie said happily. ‘One for the great lummox, eh Mrs Sowerby?’ And she went cheerfully off for fresh supplies.

  ‘This is an outrage,’ Mrs Sowerby said. But she stood up and tried to shake the water from her sleeves. ‘Do something, Mr Sowerby. Or do ’ee mean to stand by like a post and see your wife insulted?’

  But Nan didn’t give him the chance to say or do anything.

  ‘As to you, Mr Sowerby,’ she said, standing right in front of him with her arms akimbo and the air of a woman who would knock him to the floor as soon as look at him, ‘if you’ve any sense at all in that ugly head of yours, you’ll be off out of this town on the very next stage. There en’t a thing to keep ’ee here, either the one of ’ee, and I’ve took such a rare exception to ’ee both, I shan’t be answerable for the consequences if you stay.’

  ‘You cannot tell us where we are to go, ma’am,’ Mr Sowerby began, but then Rosie came staggering back with the second ewer, and he decided it would be politic not to provoke. ‘Howsomever …’

  ‘You got two seconds to be out of my house,’ Nan warned, taking the jug from her grinning servant, ‘or damne if I won’t drown the pair of ’ee.’

  ‘We leave under protest, ma’am,’ Mr Sowerby said, but he was walking towards the door.

  ‘You may leave how you please,’ Nan said. ‘’Tis all one to me, so long as you leave. Show ’em the door, Rosie.’

  But they knew where the door was and stalked through it, Mrs Sowerby dripping water as she went, and they paid no attention when it was shut after them. Their feet clumped down the stairs, the front door opened and shut. They were gone.

  ‘Jolly good riddance!’ Bessie said.

  Will and Pollyanna ran to the window to watch them slink across the square, for now that the drama was nearly over and they were all quite safe, they could enjoy it to the full. Their rush woke baby Caroline, who opened her eyes and looked over Pollyanna’s nice cushiony shoulder straight at Nan and Bessie and John.

  ‘Pretty dear,’ Nan said, admiring her. ‘Just as if we’d let her go to be beaten and starved by those two varmints. The very idea!’

  ‘How will she make out, I wonder,’ Bessie said, stroking the baby’s cheek, ‘all on ’er own with no mammy?’

  ‘How can you ask such a thing?’ Nan said. ‘With your Pollyanna to feed her and you and me and our dear John to bring her up and love her. We’re survivors Bessie. She’ll survive.’

  A Note on the Author

  Beryl Kingston was born in Tooting in 1931. She was eight when the war began and spent the early years of her education in many different schools, depending on her latest evacuation. As an undergraduate she attended King’s College London, where she read English.

  She married her childhood sweetheart when she was 19, with whom she has three children. Kingston was an English teacher before embarking on a career as a full-time writer in 1980.

  Discover books by Beryl Kingston published by Bloomsbury Reader at

  www.bloomsbury.com/BerylKingston

  A Time to Love

  Fourpenny Flyer

  Sixpenny Stalls

  Tuppenny Times

  Two Silver Crosses

  For copyright reasons, any images not belonging to the original author have been

  removed from this book. The text has not been changed, and may still contain

  references to missing images.

  This electronic edition published in 2012 by Bloomsbury Reader

  Bloomsbury Reader is a division of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, 50 Bedford Square, London WC1B 3DP

  First published in Great Britain 1990 by Time Warner Paperbacks

  Copyright © 1990 Beryl Kingston

  All rights reserved

  You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise

  make
available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means

  (including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying,

  printing, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the

  publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication

  may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  The moral right of the author is asserted.

  eISBN: 9781448210398

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