A Mother's Wish (30 page)

A blazing July gave way to an even hotter August and the fields across the River Lea were golden with ripening wheat. There had been no sign of Toby for weeks and Effie wished that she had not been so hard on him. He had, after all, only been the bringer of bad tidings; it was Frank who had led her to believe that he loved her, and she was the fool who had fallen for his lies. She told herself that she was not putting off their departure in the hope that Toby would return. It did not
matter to her if she never saw him again, but he had been good to them, and she was desperate to apologise for her apparent ingratitude. Sometimes in the evening, when her work was done and Georgie was safely tucked up in bed, Effie took a stroll along the track at the edge of the marsh. Across the flat landscape to the west she could make out the pall of smoke that hung in a permanent cloud over the city, and if the wind was from the west she could smell the stench emanating from the manufactories and the gas and chemical works. If the breeze wafted across the marshes she could smell clover, tinged with marsh gas and the earthy aroma of mud. She could see for miles although there was little to view other than marsh and sky, and her eyes constantly scanned the horizon for the sign of a traveller on horseback. The evenings were almost imperceptibly drawing in and summer was fading away. Swallows were gathering as they prepared to migrate for the winter, and Toby had not come home.

The longer they remained in Marsh House the more Effie became aware of Seymour Westlake’s straitened circumstances. The empty rooms echoing with the slightest sound were a testament to Nellie’s attempts to raise cash, in order to satiate her master’s desire for brandy
and opium. His supply might have dried up and he was stumbling along the road to recovery, but there was still the need to obtain money for essentials. The occasional glut of eggs, butter and cheese had kept them going throughout the summer, but Effie knew that life would not be as easy during a long and harsh winter. She had offered Nellie money for their keep, and it had been gratefully accepted, but the sovereigns would not last forever, and Effie realised that the time had come for them to move on.

It was a golden September with just a hint of autumn in the air. The branches on the apple trees sagged almost to the ground beneath the weight of the crop, and the hedgerows were studded with jewel-like blackberries. Effie and Georgie went out picking and returned with rush baskets brimming with ripe berries.

Nellie threw up her hands and laughed at the sight of Georgie’s purple lips and fingers. ‘I can see someone’s put more in his belly than in his basket.’ She picked him up and carried him protesting into the scullery.

Effie could hear the splashing of water and Georgie’s protests as he was scrubbed clean. She set the baskets on the table. ‘We’ll have blackberry and apple pie for supper.’

Georgie scuttled back into the kitchen
followed by Nellie, wiping her hands on her apron. ‘That’s one of the master’s favourites. I can’t remember the last time I made a fruit pie. There didn’t seem much point when the master had no appetite and it was only me and Jeffries to feed.’

Effie emptied the contents of one of the baskets into a pan. ‘There are plenty here. We could make jam with the rest.’

‘Or wine,’ Nellie said, licking her lips. ‘A drop of blackberry wine would go down a treat on a cold winter’s day.’

Effie handed the empty basket to Georgie. ‘Take this to Tom and ask him to fill it with apples from the store, there’s a good boy.’

‘Tom,’ Georgie cried gleefully. ‘Find Tom.’

‘That’s right, darling,’ Effie said proudly. ‘Go and find Tom. He’s outside in the yard. I saw him a minute ago through the window.’ She watched him toddle off carrying the basket which was almost as big as him. ‘He’s growing up so fast.’

Nellie popped a berry into her mouth. ‘Hmmm, these are just right. What shall it be? Jam or wine?’

Effie hesitated. It was now or never. She had to make the decision and break the news to Nellie. ‘I’ve got something to tell you.’

‘That sounds serious.’ Nellie flopped down on the nearest chair. ‘What is it? Have we run
out of sugar or have the mice eaten all the flour?’

‘You’ve been so kind to us, and I want you to know how much I appreciate you taking us in when we had nowhere else to go, but the time has come to move on.’

What?’ Nellie stared at her open-mouthed. ‘No. You’re joking. Why would you want to do a silly thing like that? Has him upstairs been upsetting you again?’

‘No. Mr Westlake has been a perfect gentleman and he’s doing really well now. I’m glad that he’s getting better.’

‘Then what is it? You’re not going to chase after that good-for-nothing son of his, are you?’

Effie shook her head. ‘No, it’s nothing like that. We can’t stay here forever.’

‘I don’t see why not,’ Nellie said angrily. ‘It’s not like he’s asked you to go, and you’ve earned your keep as well as paying for it.’

‘The money won’t last long, Nellie. I have to think of Tom and Georgie. We have to build a life for ourselves, and we don’t belong here.’

‘Stuff and nonsense,’ Nellie cried, rising to her feet. ‘I’ve never heard such rubbish. Why, you three are like family now. You’ve brought this old ruin back to life. You can’t leave us.’

Effie hurried round the table to hug Nellie. ‘Don’t get upset. It’s for the best and you
know it. Tom needs to find paid work and I have to support my son.’

‘Haven’t you been happy here? I know I ain’t always the easiest person to get on with and neither is the master. Old Jeffries is a bit of a moaner, but he don’t mean it. Stay here, Effie. Don’t leave us.’

‘I have been happy here, but I’ve got to think of the future. I want a proper home for Georgie and Tom.’

Nellie went to sit in her chair by the range. She pulled her apron over her head, rocking to and fro in the chair. ‘And this is a madhouse. Why don’t you say it?’

‘It’s not that,’ Effie said gently. ‘But we don’t belong here. Mr Westlake might remarry one day.’

‘Never!’

‘Never is a long time. He’s not an old man and he’s lonely.’

Nellie peeped out from beneath the folds of the apron. ‘You could marry him and then the house would be yours. You’d be made for life.’

Effie threw back her head and laughed. ‘I don’t think so, Nellie. If I marry again it will be for love, but I don’t expect to find that again, so I’ll stay as I am and devote myself to my son.’

‘Yes, and he’ll grow up and leave you,’
Nellie said darkly. ‘Don’t go, Effie. Please say you’ll stay.’

Nellie was not the only one who was against their leaving. Jeffries spoke up for once in his life, making an impassioned plea for Effie to change her mind. Tom was doubtful about the move at first, but when he saw it as an adventure and considered the possibilities as to his future he changed his mind and wholeheartedly supported Effie’s decision.

Unable to dissuade Effie from her purpose, Nellie went to her master, and when Mr Westlake appeared in the kitchen Effie thought she was going to have to do battle with him also, but he said he understood her feelings and applauded her courage. ‘A young woman like you shouldn’t be buried alive in this sad house,’ he said seriously. ‘There is more to life than trying to keep the marsh from swallowing up this old ruin, and myself along with it.’

‘No, master,’ Nellie cried passionately. ‘Don’t say such things. We rub along well enough, with or without young Effie.’

‘You are a treasure beyond the price of rubies,’ Seymour said, smiling. ‘But we must not allow Effie to bury herself here for our selfish sakes. She has a life to lead and she must follow her heart.’ He turned to Tom, who
had been shuffling awkwardly from one foot to the other. ‘Go to the stables, boy. Somewhere amongst the rack and ruin you should find an old dog cart. It might have rotted away, but perhaps you and Jeffries could make it roadworthy. It will be my gift to you all to make up for the work you have done on my property.’

Effie opened her mouth to thank him, but he held up his hand. ‘I have come to myself in the past few months, Effie. I have seen the improvements and I’m ashamed that I allowed the place to get in such a state. It’s too late now to bring prosperity back to Marsh House, but you have the will and the energy to go out into the world and succeed. I wish you well, my dear.’

He turned to go but Effie ran after him. ‘Sir, you don’t have to live like this. If you would just acknowledge your son . . .’

Seymour’s brows drew together in an ominous frown. ‘Say no more on the matter, Mrs Grey. I have no son.’ He strode out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind him.

The ancient dog cart was found beneath a pile of sacks and rusty garden tools. Although Jeffries made it plain that he disapproved of their plan to leave, he became engrossed in the restoration of the vehicle, telling Tom and
Effie stories of the old days when Toby and his mother used to go about the countryside, visiting friends or going to market.

‘Of course,’ he said gravely, ‘the master couldn’t be seen out with a servant girl, but sometimes he’d take the reins and they’d go off for a picnic somewhere quiet where the gossips wouldn’t see them.’ He stroked the wooden seat, shaking his head. ‘Not that it would have mattered to the mistress; she was past caring about things like that.’

Effie stopped scraping off the flaking paintwork to stare at him. ‘The mistress, Jeffries? I thought she must have died before Toby was born.’

He shook his head. ‘She might as well have been dead, missis. She were a delicate slip of a thing when the master married her. She took sick soon after the honeymoon and she got worse with each passing day. She lost the use of her legs and had to be pushed round in one of them Bath chairs.’

‘Poor lady,’ Effie said sincerely. ‘How sad.’

‘It were, missis. She was a gentle soul and never said a cross word. She spent her last few years bedridden and just faded away gradual like. She died a few months before smallpox almost took the master’s life.’

‘And killed Mirella,’ Effie murmured, half to herself.

‘They’re both buried in the orchard, close by where we put the old man. I seen the master walking there at dusk, when he thinks no one is about. I say it’s no wonder he took to the drink.’

Effie put down the metal scraper. ‘I don’t think I can do any more today. It’s time I started making supper.’

‘Stop talking about people dying,’ Tom said impatiently. ‘Tell me about the time you got lost in the marsh, Jeffries, and would have drowned but for the will-o’-the-wisp leading you to safety.’

Effie left them to get on with their work. She could hear Jeffries’ voice droning on as he recounted lurid tales of the past, but it was the star-crossed lovers who occupied her mind as she crossed the stable yard and went into the house. Nellie never talked about the late Mrs Westlake, but her long debilitating illness and slow death would explain why Seymour had never been able to make an honest woman of Mirella. Effie’s heart ached for all three of them in their hopeless triangle of love. She shivered. The autumn nights were slowly drawing in and winter would be upon them all too soon. She was determined to be settled in a home of their own before the bad weather made life even more difficult.

The dog cart was repaired and it was packed in readiness for their departure. It was early morning and a fine mist blanketed the marshes. A heavy dew lay on the ground like hoar frost and there was a definite chill in the air. Tom went out to the stables to put Champion between the shafts and Effie was upstairs in her bedchamber, making certain that she had left nothing behind. She went to the window, peering out into the swirling mist. The sky and marsh were the same uniform shade of pearl grey and there was no sign as yet that the sun would break through and burn off the mist. She was about to turn away when she saw a movement out of the corner of her eye. The breath hitched in her throat as she made out a man’s shape emerging from the fog. For a wild moment she thought it was Toby coming home and she lifted her hand to wave to him, but then she realised that he would not be travelling on foot and when a second figure staggered out of the mist she realised her mistake. A woman was traipsing after the man and Effie let out a horrified cry. She ran from the room and almost fell down the stairs in her haste. She arrived in the kitchen breathless and hardly able to frame the words.

‘Salter,’ she gasped. ‘Salter and his wife – they’re here, Nellie.’

Georgie’s lips trembled at the sound of his mother’s raised voice and Nellie snatched him up in her arms. ‘Let them come,’ she said angrily. ‘I’ll sort them out for you.’

‘No,’ Effie shook her head vehemently. ‘They mustn’t find us here. I don’t know how they’ve found us, but I want you to tell them that you know nothing. You’ve never seen us.’ She snatched her cloak and bonnet from the peg behind the door and Georgie’s little jacket and cap that had once belonged to Bertie.

‘What are you going to do?’ Nellie demanded anxiously.

‘We’re leaving right away.’ Effie crossed the floor to take Georgie from her arms. ‘Please, Nellie. Do me this last favour. Keep them here as long as you can. Offer them a cup of tea or anything that will delay them. They’re on foot and they’ll never catch up with us in the dog cart. We must go now while it’s too foggy for them to see us.’

A loud hammering on the front door made them both jump and Georgie began to whimper. Effie cuddled him to her. ‘Hush, darling. We’re playing a game of hide and seek.’

‘They’ll have the door down in a minute,’ Nellie said angrily. ‘I’ll give them a piece of my mind.’ She strode out of the kitchen and her footsteps echoed off the flagstones in the passage.

Effie hesitated by the open door, straining her ears to hear what they were saying.

‘What d’you want?’ Nellie demanded.

‘We’re looking for a woman with a baby and a young boy.’

The sound of Salter’s gruff voice made Effie shudder.

‘You’ve got the wrong house,’ Nellie answered crossly.

‘We’ve been told they’re here.’ Sal’s voice had a wheedling tone. ‘You wouldn’t want to be harbouring felons, I’m sure, missis.’

‘I ain’t harbouring nobody. Clear off.’