A Mother's Courage (3 page)

'Jacob, please.' Grace held her hand out to him.
'You're making things worse.'

'Eloise is a grown woman now. She has
children of her own and she will have to follow
the path in life which she has chosen. You have
another family, Eloise. Your children have
grandparents in Yorkshire. They must take some
responsibility for their son's wife and children.'

Eloise faced her father across the breakfast
table. 'I would sooner die than go to live with
them, Papa. Ronnie's mother hates me, I know
she does.'

'Really, Eloise. Don't be so dramatic,' Jacob
retorted angrily. 'When we met at the wedding I
thought she was a sensible, down to earth
woman, and she went out of her way to be
pleasant.'

'Maybe to you, but I know that she would
rather that Ronnie had married a plain Yorkshire
girl, not a soft southerner.'

Jacob rose to his feet, scowling. 'This is
hysterical nonsense. You are overwrought.'

Grace pushed her chair back from the table and
she went to stand beside Eloise. 'Stop it, both of
you. This is all wrong. We should be helping our
daughter, Jacob. We should be comforting her in
her loss, not abandoning her to the care of
strangers.' She wrapped her arms around Eloise
and hugged her. 'My poor girl, it will break my
heart to leave you.'

'Stay with me, Mama. Don't follow him to the
wilds of the Dark Continent. Stay with me and
the children. I can find work. We'll manage
somehow.'

Jacob thumped his hand down on the table,
causing the crockery and cutlery to bounce and
jiggle. 'That's enough, Eloise. Your mother
knows her duty and that is to accompany me on
my mission. You are an ungrateful girl and a
wicked daughter to try to turn her against me.'

Eloise glared at him over her mother's bent
head. They were both sobbing now, but she was
also furious. 'How can you stand there and
pretend you are a man of God when you treat
your wife and daughter like this? You call me
wicked, Papa, but I think it is you who are bad
and unfeeling, and unchristian.'

'That's enough.' Jacob strode round the table
and he caught his wife by the shoulders, dragging
her away from Eloise. 'This behaviour will
stop now. Grace, I expect better from you. This
sort of outburst is unseemly in a woman of your
age and station in life. You are behaving like the
lowest of the low slum women who rant and
rave quite out of control. This sordid, godforsaken
part of London has had a terrible effect on
both of you, and you will be better off away from
here.'

Grace tried to break free from him, but he held
her by the wrist. 'Jacob, let me go. You're hurting
me. In all our years of married life I have never
gone against your wishes, I have followed you
wherever your calling led us, but I think you are
quite wrong in this. You are putting the needs of
others above those of our daughter.'

'I am doing God's will, Grace. You will come
with me, and Eloise will go to Yorkshire to live
with her in-laws. I am going to my study to write
them a letter explaining the situation, and I hope
by the time I am done you will have composed
yourself and remembered your duty to me.' He
slammed out of the room.

Eloise and Grace stood in shocked silence
staring at the closed door. Eloise was the first to
recover and she placed her arm around her
mother's shoulders. 'I am so sorry, Mama. I
didn't mean to come between you and Papa. I
just can't bear the thought of you being so far
away, especially when I need you so much.'

'My darling girl, I would give anything to
change the situation, but your father is a stubborn
man. Once he has made his mind up to
something, I don't think even God himself could
dissuade him from his purpose.' Grace's brown
eyes were magnified by unshed tears, but her
lips quivered in a wry smile.

'Don't go with him, Mama. Stay here with me.
I'll work my fingers to the bone to keep us all.'

'I wish it were that simple, but your father
needs me and, whether I like it or not, my place
is at his side. I just hope that if he finds
missionary work not to his liking he will agree to
return home. You can be certain that I will do
everything in my power to persuade him to
come back to England. I wouldn't mind living in
the poorest parish in the land if I could be near
you and my grandchildren.'

Eloise laid her head on her mother's shoulder,
too distraught even to cry. 'Oh, Mama, what
shall I do without you?'

Grace hugged her fiercely. 'You will go on for
your children, Ellie. As I will go on for you, and
one day we will be reunited, I promise you that.'

'Oh, Mama, I wish I was as brave and strong as
you. But whatever happens, I'll keep my
children with me and I won't go and live with the
hateful Cribbs in Yorkshire. I would rather die.'

Perhaps it was a pang of conscience that had led
him to be so unusually generous, but her father
had elected to purchase a first class ticket for
Eloise and the children. The 'Ladies Only' compartment
was reasonably comfortable but Joss
was fretful and soon grew tired of standing on
the seat to look out of the window. He wanted to
toddle about, but not all their fellow passengers
appreciated a small child clutching at their knees
or falling against them when the train picked up
speed or rattled over the points. The clicketyclack
of the iron wheels on the rails had lulled
Beth to sleep, and as she cradled her in her arms
Eloise was thankful for this slight respite as the
other ladies in the compartment did not seem to
enjoy travelling with small children. Despite her
papa's undoubtedly well-intentioned purchase
of a first class ticket, Eloise was now wishing that
they had travelled second or even third class,
where perhaps the other passengers might have
been more tolerant. She knew that Beth would be
hungry when she woke up, but she was anxious
about breastfeeding her baby in the present
company. One lady in particular kept sighing
and tut-tutting when Joss staggered about in the
swaying carriage. Eloise tried to make him sit
beside her on the seat, but he soon tired of this
and his natural curiosity made him want to
explore this strange new environment. The
toffee-nosed lady twitched her skirts away from
his outstretched hands as he toddled towards
her. She glared at Eloise. 'Can't you keep that
child under control, young woman?'

'I'm sorry, ma'am,' Eloise said, beckoning to
Joss. 'Come here, darling. Come and sit by
Mama.'

One of the other ladies murmured something
under her breath to her well-dressed companion,
and Eloise shot her a darkling look as she
reached out to catch hold of Joss's arm. 'He's just
a baby,' she said defiantly. 'If you have children
of your own you must know what it's like when
they are this young.'

The toffee-nosed lady eyed her disdainfully.
'My children had a nanny to look after them.'

A murmur of assent from the other two
women acknowledged this barb.

Eloise opened her mouth to retort, but at that
moment Beth woke up and began to whimper.
Eloise rocked her gently hoping that she would
go back to sleep, but Beth was hungry and
unwilling to be pacified. Her lips trembled and
Eloise could see that she was gathering
momentum to scream. The train began to slow
down and Eloise prayed that at least some of the
ladies would get off at the next station. To her
intense relief, they all began to gather their
belongings, and when the train ground to a halt
they stepped onto the platform in a flurry of
starched petticoats, fur and feathers. For a
moment Eloise thought she might have the
compartment to herself for the remainder of the
journey, but a plump, pleasant-faced country
woman climbed in at the last moment. She had
obviously had to hurry in order to catch the train
and she subsided onto the seat, red in the face
and gasping for breath. 'That was a close one,'
she said, fanning her hot cheeks with her hand. 'I
had to run for it and that were an effort for a
woman of my size I can tell you.' She settled
herself more comfortably in the corner seat.
'You'd think they would put on more carriages
when the train was full, wouldn't you? To tell the
truth, my dear, I've only got a third class ticket,
but all the other compartments were crammed
full. You don't mind if I stay here, do you?'

'No, of course not,' Eloise said smiling, but her
words were drowned by Beth's angry howls
which were now reaching a crescendo and Joss
was also beginning to cry.

'Go on, love,' the woman said, nodding at
Beth. 'Give Baby what she wants. I've had ten
kids of my own so you won't shock me. I'm
Gladys, by the way. Gladys Danby.'

'I'm Eloise Cribb. How do you do?' Eloise
hesitated, biting her lip. 'Supposing the guard
comes along to check the tickets? It would be so
embarrassing.'

'Don't worry, love,' Gladys said, chuckling.
'The guard is my second cousin. He's a married
man himself.'

Eloise managed a weary smile. Her nerves
were already stretched as taut as violin strings at
the prospect of facing her in-laws, whom she had
met only once, and that was at her wedding three
years ago. Papa had been adamant that she
should take her children up to Yorkshire, and, in
the end, she had had no choice. When she had
returned to the house in Myrtle Street, Eloise had
discovered that the landlord had changed the
locks and the bailiffs had seized what little furniture
she owned. Fanny Higgins had managed to
save her clothes and books, which were of little
second-hand value, but everything else had been
taken in lieu of outstanding rent. It was the final
blow that had convinced Papa that the only
solution was to send Eloise and her babies to live
with Ronnie's parents in their vast Gothic house
on the outskirts of Scarborough.

'You can borrow my shawl, love,' Gladys said,
heaving her heavy body from the seat. She
plucked the shawl from round her shoulders,
passing it to Eloise. 'That'll save your modesty.'

Beth's cries were so insistent and real tears
were oozing from her eyes, that Eloise felt she
had little alternative. She took the shawl and
rearranged her clothing so that Beth could
suckle. 'Thank you, Mrs er . . .'

'Call me Gladys, if you please. Mrs Danby
sounds so formal. My hubby and me have a farm
outside of Driffield. Where are you going then?'

Eloise was unused to such open curiosity.
People in London were not usually so forthcoming,
or so nosey. She was temporarily saved
from answering by Joss, who was apparently
tired of being well behaved and had decided that
Mrs Danby's wicker basket was much more
interesting than the view from the window. 'Joss,
leave the lady alone.'

Gladys chuckled and lowered the basket so
that he could peep inside. 'Don't scold him. He's
just curious.' She delved in and pulled out a
brown paper bag. 'I've got a buttered bread cake
in here. Just the thing to keep a small boy quiet
for a bit.' Without waiting to see if Eloise minded
or not, she proceeded to break off small pieces
and feed them to Joss, who stood by her side
opening his mouth to receive the crumbs like a
hungry baby bird.

'That's very kind of you,' Eloise murmured,
shifting Beth to her right breast and readjusting
the shawl.

'Have you come far then, love?' Gladys's
beady brown eyes were alive with curiosity.
'You're not a Yorkshire lass, I can tell that. So
where are you headed?'

Eloise hadn't intended to tell her inquisitor
anything, but Gladys was undeniably friendly
and it was a relief to speak of her troubles openly
and without fear of hurting anyone's feelings.
The last couple of weeks had been so traumatic
and fraught with emotion that Eloise was left
feeling drained and exhausted. She found herself
telling Gladys about Ronnie's untimely death,
and how her home had been snatched from her,
of her father's intractable attitude and her
mother's grief-stricken tears when they had
parted on Euston station. Somehow it was easier
to unburden her feelings to a complete stranger
than it would have been to a close friend, not that
she had any friends other than Fanny. All her
girlhood companions and school friends had
been left behind in Dorset, and when she was
living at home Eloise had been content to keep
her mother company. Papa had always been
rather stern and aloof, but his attitude had only
strengthened the bond between mother and
daughter.

Then there had been Janet, who was not only a
servant but also an integral part of the family.
Janet had been with them for as long as Eloise
could remember. The vicarage kitchen in Dorset
had been a place of refuge when she had
transgressed any of Papa's strict rules or
infringed his moral code by truanting from
Sunday school or eating chocolate during
Evensong. Janet had always been there to spoil
her with tasty treats from the larder, or to
bandage a scraped knee when Eloise had fallen
over in the garden. It had been Janet who had
helped her creep out of the house to meet Ronnie
without her parents knowing. That had been the
first and only time that Eloise had done anything
behind her mother's back, and at the start it had
only been a bit of fun, an escape from the rather
dull routine of daily life. Then she realised that
she had fallen madly in love with him, but she
also knew that Papa did not approve of the
young merchant navy officer, and had hoped
that she might marry someone like their staid
young curate. Eloise had confessed the whole
thing to her mother, desperate to gain her
approval, and she had not been disappointed.
Mama had understood and had told her to
follow her heart – and she had done just that.

Ronnie had made everything so exciting and
he had enthralled her with tales of his sea
voyages and the foreign lands he had visited. She
could still recall the first time he had kissed her.
It had been on a starry night beneath a huge
harvest moon, although they had been sitting on
a gravestone in the churchyard, which was not
quite so romantic, but his kiss had set her pulses
racing and left her aching for more. A shooting
star had pierced the black velvet sky. She had
known it was an omen. They were meant for
each other and would never be parted. Eloise
sighed at the memory.

'I think Baby's had her fill, love,' Gladys said,
setting Joss down on the seat beside her. She
leaned over to take the sleeping baby from
Eloise's arms while she adjusted her clothing.
'The precious little mite! So, you're going to live
with your hubby's parents, are you? I don't envy
you, lass. I never got on with my mother-in-law,
but of course you may be different. It wouldn't
do if we was all alike, now would it?'

Eloise snapped back to reality. In her mind she
had been reliving the first heady days of discovering
love with Ronnie. Gladys's brisk tone
brought her down to earth with a bump. She
gazed dismally out of the window at bare brown
fields flashing past and flicks of white snow
piled up in the hedgerows. 'It will be all right,'
she said, swallowing a lump in her throat the size
of a pigeon's egg. 'I'm sure we'll get by.'

Gladys placed Beth back in Eloise's arms and
she retrieved her shawl, hitching it over her
shoulders. 'Well, at least you'll be well fed, love.'

Eloise stared at her nonplussed. 'I'm sorry?'

'Well, you would be, wouldn't you? I mean
folk round these parts all know about Cribb's
meat pies and sausages. A pie and pea supper
wouldn't be the same without their tasty steak
pies with lashings of good gravy.'

'Meat pies?' Eloise stared at her in surprise. She
knew that Ronnie's parents were in trade, but he
had never mentioned pies and sausages. In fact
he rarely spoke about his family at all. He had
gone to sea when he was just fourteen and did
not appear to have spent much time at home in
the ensuing years.

'You didn't know?' Gladys went back to her
seat, chuckling. 'They're famous throughout the
East Riding and the whole of Yorkshire come to
that. Don't they have Cribb's pies where you
come from?'

'I – I'm not sure.'

Gladys picked up Joss and sat him on her knee.
'I think I've got a slice of lardy cake in the bottom
of my basket. Shall we see if we can find it?' She
allowed Joss to rifle round until he found it, and
she broke off a piece for him. 'You don't know
much about your in-laws then?'

Eloise shook her head. 'We only met once, and
that was at the wedding.'

'Not that I'm one to gossip, but I grew up on a
farm near Ganton, which is just a few miles from
Scarborough, and folk round there remember
when old man Cribb started. He had a pork
butcher's shop on the outskirts of the town and
then he went on to making meat pies. He's done
well for himself has Harcourt Cribb. He's got
plenty of brass, so you and the little ones will be
seen right.'

Eloise wiped a trickle of milk from Beth's lips.
'I'm sure we will.' Somehow Gladys's words
were not much of a comfort to her. If Ronnie's
parents were so wealthy, why hadn't he asked
them for money when they had needed it so
badly? Now there were more unanswered questions
buzzing around in her brain. Fortunately
Gladys was too busy feeding Joss to carry on
with the conversation and they lapsed into
silence until the train once again began to slow
down.

Gladys wiped Joss's sticky hands and face with
the cloth which had covered her basket. 'This is
my station coming up, love. I hope it works out
for you, I really do. But if ever you need a
shoulder to cry on, you'll always find a welcome
at Danby Farm, Driffield. Anyone in the village
will point you in the right direction.' She stood
up, staggering a little as the train reduced speed.
'Goodbye, young Joss. You be good for your ma,
do you hear me?' She ruffled his curls and picked
up her basket. As the train slowed to a halt
Gladys tugged at the leather strap to let the
window down. She leaned out to unlock the
carriage door and climbed stiffly down to the
platform. 'Goodbye and good luck, lass. I think
you may need it.' She gave Eloise a cheery wave
as the train pulled slowly out of the station.

It was dark by the time they arrived at
Scarborough station. Both Joss and Beth were
sleeping and Eloise had to summon a porter to
help her with her luggage. She stepped down
onto the platform with Beth hitched over her
shoulder and Joss, still half asleep, clinging to her
hand. Eloise gasped as the bitterly cold air hit her
lungs. The familiar sooty smell of London had
been replaced by the bracing tang of salty air
blustering in from the North Sea. The porter
stood with her battered suitcase in one hand and
her valise in the other. 'Is anyone meeting you,
ma'am?'