‘’Tis no sir,’ her father was bawling now. ‘Can’t you see who it is! Well, who he says he is, the nipper…the runner.’
‘Eeh! Dear God.’ The woman in the chair had pulled herself more upright, and she now peered towards Freddie, saying, ‘I’d never have believed it. You looked stuck there as a little lad, no promise of sprouting. Eeh! I wouldn’t have believed it.’
He said politely, ‘How are you, Mrs Wheatley?’
‘As you see me, lad, as you see me. Dropsy I’ve got, so they say. That’s what the good God gives you for working hard all your life. Well, I never expected to see you again. Yet why not? Why not? But we haven’t been here all that long.’
Connie was standing close to him now, looking up into his face.
‘You came in a while back,’ she said, ‘didn’t you?’
‘Yes, Connie, I did.’
‘Funny, I had no inkling yet there was something about you made me uneasy, I remember.’
‘You needn’t be uneasy through me.’
‘What you after?’ It was the man speaking again, and Connie, turning on him sharply, said, ‘Let him get in first, Da, and then he’ll tell us what he’s after. Sit yourself down and shut your mouth.’
‘You’ll tell me to do that once too often, you will, you’ll see.’
‘Sit down, Frank.’ This came from his wife, and the old man sat down in a rocking chair on the opposite side of the fire. And now Connie, indicating a large comfortable leather chair, said to Freddie, ‘Take a seat.’
When he was seated he looked at Connie again, saying, ‘I got a bit of a start when I recognised you; I never expected to see you at this end again.’
‘We never really expected to be here.’
She had now sat down to the side of her mother and she laid her hand on her mother’s where it was resting on the arm of the chair as she went on, ‘It was the cold. Ma couldn’t stand it. We think we’re badly off here but it’s nothing to what it’s like in Scotland. We stuck it for as long as we could. And then there were the people. We didn’t get on: they seemed to speak a different language. Well, they do, don’t they?’ She gave a small laugh; and after a short pause she said, ‘How are you faring?’ but didn’t wait for an answer and added, ‘Well, I heard you were still with that Miss Hewitt and doing well. But I’ve never probed, although Ma here wanted me to go down to North Shields and see how…well, you know, the little miss was faring. But there never seemed to be time as I have it all on me own hands, I mean, downstairs, and when you’re startin’ a business like this you’ve got to keep behind people; nobody works like yourself. You’ve got to keep your eyes open, although they’re a decent lot; you can’t trust anybody these days. We had one in the beginning who used to bring her family in for meals, an odd one here an’ there, an’ slip them plates. Oh, you’ve got to be on the lookout. And another thing why we don’t hear much is, we keep ourselves to ourselves.’
‘Speak for yourself.’ It was her father again. ‘I get about now and then an’ I hear things, an’ I know a thing or two an’ all.’
Both his wife and daughter ignored him; and it was Connie who asked quietly, ‘How is she?’
‘Well, you’ve seen her at least twice in your coffee house.’
‘I have?’
‘Yes. She accompanied my sister, the blind girl who sings.’
‘Never! Never that one, the one with eyes as dark as sloes who comes with the blind girl? I thought their name was Twaite.’
‘No; Mrs Twaite does the arranging for Nancy. She’s my sister; Mrs Twaite is no relation.’
‘She’s a beautiful girl, your sister, and has a lovely voice. But the other, to think…And I remember seeing her dance once with—’ She stopped and slowly her hand went to her mouth and pressed her cheeks tightly inwards. Now she rose to her feet and looked down at her mother, and then at Freddie before she said, ‘Oh my! Oh my! For such a thing to happen, because do you know who she was dancin’ with?’
He evidently surprised her by saying, ‘Yes; yes I know. That’s why I’m here.’
‘You know about him…I mean, who he is, the Mister Birkstead, as he calls himself, when it should be Gallagher? He’s taken his granny’s name. I recognised him the first day he stepped in the door. And when I heard his name I knew it was his granny’s. I can see her standing now in the hall, her nose turned up in distaste, saying, “This place has been neglected.” Then looking at me and saying, “I’m not really blaming you. It was impossible for one person to keep this house clean, but I won’t require you or your mother’s services in the future. I am bringing my own staff.” That was Mrs Birkstead…And then there he was that day—I saw him from the office as he came in—he was with two other men and they ordered rabbit pie. I couldn’t take my eyes off him; it was as if I was looking at the old master like he used to be when I was a young girl. And I used to think he was handsome in those days, and kindly. He was kindly, wasn’t he, Ma?’
‘Oh, aye; in his young days he was kindly enough, except at times when his temper got the better of him. That’s when he took to the powder to calm him down, I think. But he changed altogether after the first one died. Oh, I’ll say. And he married the second one just in time else he wouldn’t have had a roof over his head, up to his eyes in gambling debts he was…Would you like a drink, lad? Well, I shouldn’t call you lad any more—should I?—because you’re a well set-up man now. We’ve got a good port. It comes from the right place. My! I never knew there were so many underhand dealings went on until we moved to this city.’
‘Shut your mouth, woman.’
‘And you shut yours.’ She now pointed at her husband. ‘And use your napper, have some sense, ’cos if anybody knows about underhand dealings it’s this young man here. He was the best runner the river ever had ’cos the ones that came before him would have bought you at the fore end of a boat and sold you at the aft. Anyway, what about a drink?’ When she inclined her head towards Freddie, he said quietly, ‘No thank you. I take very little, and never any this early in the day.’
‘Chapel are you?’
He laughed now. ‘No, no; Mrs Wheatley, not me, never Chapel.’
‘What have you come for anyway?’
He looked towards the old man but didn’t answer him; instead, turning to Connie, he said, ‘They’ve become attached, not knowing who they were exactly, it just happened. He called yesterday and I almost recognised him right away. As you said, he’s like his father. He came with the intention of asking Miss Hewitt and’—he paused—‘Belle to tea. It was then he mentioned his grandmother and that house. I’d understood, and so had Miss Hewitt, that he lived mostly in Newcastle. He seems to have a house here too. Well, she had to be told, we couldn’t let it go on. Naturally, she was very upset. I told her everything she should know about the night of her birth and what her supposed father intended to do with her. And it was this word, supposed, that aroused her curiosity and the fact that there was something odd about a situation where a man would want to kill his own daughter. I had to indicate then that there might be a doubt as to her parentage. But of course there is no way of proving that now, at least I have no way of proving it, but I wondered if any of you’—he cast his glance over them—‘could confirm that she wasn’t Gallagher’s daughter, or on the other hand that she was? I’ve thought about it a lot and it’s probable that she was and that the man was mad jealous of a young and beautiful wife who dared to smile on another man. It happens.’
They all sat in silence now, and when he said, ‘Well?’ Frank Wheatley cried, ‘Well, what d’you want us to do? Look! We want nowt to do with this business. We want to be left alone. We mind our own business, always have, kept ourselves to ourselves. So you can go out the same way that you came in.’
‘Da, if you don’t shut up you know what’ll happen, don’t you?’ Connie nodded slowly at her father and he stared back at her for a moment before looking away and growling something under his breath.
Connie now turned to
her mother and said one word, ‘Ma.’
And Mrs Wheatley, addressing herself to her daughter, said, ‘Well, almost her last words to me were, “Hang on to it, Betty, for there might come a time when it’ll need proof of its true identity,” or words of that kind was what she said. So go and get it.’
Connie now turned and went to a bureau in the corner of the room. She pulled open a drawer and seemed to press something; then to his amazement he saw the top of the bureau rise to reveal a six-inch-high cupboard with a small alcove at each side. He now watched her press what he supposed must be a button inside the right-hand alcove, and then the door of the little cupboard sprang open. From where he was standing he only had a glimpse of the contents but his impression was there were two small chamois leather bags lying on the floor of the cupboard, and stuck at the back was a letter. Quickly she picked up the letter between her finger and thumb as if it was something hot. Then she closed the door, pressed the top of the cupboard down until it once more formed a level shelf on the top of the bureau.
Bringing the letter to her mother, she put it into her outstretched hand. He saw that the flap was open; whatever was in it was certainly no secret to those present. When Mrs Wheatley handed him the envelope, he mouthed the words, ‘Thank you,’ but no sound came out. Then he was reading simple words on a single sheet of paper headed with a crest and the address of The Towers engraved in fancy script.
I, Mirabelle Gallagher, am about to give birth to a child and I wish to state truthfully that my husband is not the father of this child. The father is one Captain José Fordyce. He is of Spanish extraction on his mother’s side. But I lay no claim to him as he is a married man with a family and his ship is registered in Spain. He was honest with me and I with him. I am leaving this letter with my faithful servant Betty Wheatley in the hope that she will at some stage give it to the child in order that it should know that in no way is it a part of that demon, the man who is called my husband, Roderick Gallagher.
I place myself in God’s hands.
Slowly he folded up the single sheet and replaced it in the envelope and handed it back to the old woman, but found he was unable to speak; when he could he looked at Connie and said, ‘You know, if you don’t mind I’ll have that drink now.’
Quietly Connie stood up and went straight from the room; and after a moment her father pulled himself up from his chair and followed her, banging the door shut as he went out.
‘Sit down here, lad.’ Betty Wheatley indicated the chair that Connie had sat in earlier; and as he lowered himself down into it she pointed to the door, saying, ‘There’s a changed man for you if ever there was one. Some men can stand having money like they can stand drinks, others haven’t the stomach for it. We had a little windfall, you know, and it went to his head.’ She glanced knowingly sideways at him, then went on, ‘If it had been beer he could have managed it, but it was rum. And if you want to slide to hell quickly the best way to do it is on rum, constant like. But Connie keeps him in his place. You know something? He’s frightened of her. Not of me, mind, not of me, but she’s threatened to throw him out time and again. But then she can’t, can she? If one goes, we all go. But our time is runnin out anyway. Connie will be all right, she’ll always make a livin’. She’s got a head on her shoulders for business so she’s set. Aye, lad—’ She smiled at him a weary smile as she ended, ‘We had a little windfall one day. Have you ever had a windfall?’
He smiled gently at her as he said, ‘Yes, I’ve had two. The first one was a handful of Roman coins I found in the sand.’
She laughed out loud now. ‘I bet that’s when you were a little nipper runnin’ the sculler,’ she said.
‘Yes, it was.’
She laid her head back on the padded top of the chair and was silent for a moment; then she said, ‘All that happened such a long time ago. It seems two lifetimes ago. Yet how long is it?’
‘Fifteen years.’
‘Just fifteen years…What you goin’ to do about the letter then?’
‘I’ll tell her.’
‘And him? Are you goin’ to put it all to him?’
‘I suppose so, but between you and me, if you want the truth, I’d rather nothing happened between them. The fact is, no matter how nice he looks, how charming he appears, he’s still that man’s son.’
‘Aye, well. But you cannot put the blame on the children for the sins of the fathers. This fellow must have been brought up by his granny. Now his father didn’t have a time like that. In fact, there’s something to be said for his side ’cos his old man in his turn gave him hell. I told you once didn’t I, how he was pushed in that room…I wonder if they still kept it?’
‘I doubt it. I understood from what he had said yesterday the house had been practically rebuilt from the inside by the old lady…Mrs Wheatley?’ he said.
‘Aye? What is it?’
‘Do you think you could trust me with that letter?’
She looked at the letter that she was still holding in one hand, and she sighed as she said, ‘Well, that’s what she said, didn’t she? She said, if the time ever came when I thought the child should know from where it sprang, I had to show it the letter. So there you are, lad. Take it to her. But you know something? It’s lucky…it’s lucky it’s still here, ’cos both of them, both Connie and him’—she nodded towards the door—‘plagued me to put it in the fire in those early days when the bairn was upstairs because in one of his rages he was not above ransacking every place in the house. And, as Frank was always saying, if he got an inkling he would tear our quarters apart. But then, as I said, who was goin’ to give him the inkling? Yet many’s the time I was tempted to do just what they said and burn the thing. But when he didn’t come back that next day, nor the next, nor the next, and his horse was found by itself and he hadn’t been to the ostler’s, well, we knew that wasn’t like him, and we knew we were for the road in any case, so we made our plans. And it was a good job we did ’cos it was just two days after he was found that there she was, his mother-in-law, as I told you, and among the odds and ends,’ she stressed the last three words, ‘we took away with us I fetched the letter, and it lay in the tin trunk for years up in Scotland quite undisturbed and at times forgotten during the three moves we made. Then when we came here Connie bought that bureau because of its secret drawer, and she put it in there.’
Connie now entered the room. She was carrying a tray with three mugs on it, steam rising from each, and her mother, looking at it, said, ‘Where’s he then?’
‘He’s gone out.’
‘Has he anything on him?’
‘Enough…enough to get him a pint, no more. Don’t worry,’ she said as she handed her mother a steaming mug; ‘he’ll be back, ’cos it’d freeze you out there.’
When she herself sat down she looked from Freddie to her mother and back to him again, and she said, ‘Ain’t life funny? Who’d ever think that one day we’d be sittin’ here talkin’ like this and that the whole thing that happened all those years gone is about to come to light.’
‘Come to light?’ Mrs Wheatley was sitting up straight now. ‘You’re not goin’ to bring all this to light, are you?’ She was looking at Freddie, her face and voice expressing her anxiety. And he answered her: ‘Not if I can help it, oh no, so don’t worry.’ He tapped the pocket of his jacket now, saying, ‘I always believe in letting sleeping dogs lie.’
‘Aye, but this one seems to have one eye open,’ Connie said. ‘The fellow mightn’t see it like you or us.’
‘If he wants to marry her’—he drew in a long slow breath—‘and I suppose he does if his attention is anything to go by, then he’d want the business kept as quiet as anyone. I should think more so, because although he mightn’t have seen much of his father he won’t relish his being exposed as the man he was. Anyway—’ He now lifted his mug and drained it; then putting it back on the tray, he said, ‘If you don’t mind I’ll be making a move because the way it’s coming down I think I’m going to have a job to
get from the station to the house.’
He stood up; then bending over Mrs Wheatley, he took her hand and said; ‘Thank you for your help. Thank you very much.’ And she answered, ‘That’s all right, lad. Will you pop in when you’re this way again an’ let us know how things have turned out?’
He hesitated a moment, then said, ‘Yes. Yes, I will,’ and turning to Connie, he added, ‘You’ve got a good business going downstairs. Who does the cooking?’
‘I do most of it, but I’ve got two good lasses in the kitchen. They’re learnin’ my ways.’
‘I’m glad things are going right for you.’
‘Well, as I see it, in this life you’ve only got yourself to blame if they don’t. It’s hard goin’ at times but if you work at it you’ll get there.’
‘Ah, shut up, lass!’ They both turned sharply and looked at the woman in the chair. She was sitting bolt upright now and pointing to her legs. ‘Work hard, you said, and you’ll get there. What good did hard work ever do for us? Slaved we did from morn till night, an’ for what? Don’t talk rubbish, lass. What you need in this life is luck and opportunity and money an’ to hell with hard work. That’s what I say.’
As she lay back in her chair seemingly exhausted, they went out of the room together and on the landing Connie said, ‘She gets bitter at times, ’cos now, when she could be takin’ it easy, she’s troubled with the water and there seems no cure for it. Doctors or herbalists all say the same, take the medicine. But the swelling goes on. I can understand her being bitter. And she’s right, you know’—she nodded her head—‘you do need luck, and more so opportunities.’
On the dim landing they held each other’s gaze for a moment before she turned sharply about, went down the stairs, and opened the door for him. Then saying abruptly, ‘Mind how you go,’ she let him out into the street; and as he was about to turn and say a final word of farewell, the door closed.
The Harrogate Secret (aka The Secret) Page 21
