Goodnight Lady (6 page)

 

Briony had been living her new life for three weeks and she loved it. Well, she liked most of it, she told herself. The things that she had to do for Mr Dumas got on her nerves a bit, but she was getting to like living at the house and that was all that really concerned her. She put on a brown dress with a tiny lace collar, her walking boots and her large brown cape. Lastly she put on a straw hat with dried flowers that was totally unsuited to the weather, but she was so enamoured of it she didn’t care. She walked down the stairs and went through the green baize door to Mrs Horlock and Cissy.

‘Get us a cab, Cis.’ Briony’s voice was clear and loud in the kitchen and Mrs Horlock smothered a smile. She was a case, was this one. Not five minutes in the house and already she acted like she was born to it. If she used the toilet once a day she used it fifty times, though the novelty of the bathroom was wearing off now and she was down to only two baths a day. But Mrs Horlock was clever enough to let the child have her head, let her get used to her surroundings. If she was happy, Mr Dumas was happy and at the end of the day, that was what counted.

‘You’re going to your mum’s then, Miss?’

‘Yes, Mrs Horlock, I am. Don’t worry, I’ll tell the cab to come back for me at five. I’ll be home in plenty of time for Mr Dumas and me dinner.’

‘Shall I go with her, Mrs Horlock?’ Cissy’s face was expressionless but the hope behind it was evident.

‘No you won’t, Cissy. All the work I’ve got here today! Now go and get Miss Briony her cab. And hurry up!’

Cissy ran from the kitchen.

‘I’ve made you up a hamper for your mum. She’ll need it today.’

Briony grinned at the old woman. She looked stern at times, and she could be sharp, but underneath Briony liked her. She cuddled Briony sometimes of an evening when Mr Dumas went home to his real house. Briony would come out here, to the kitchen and Mrs Horlock would settle her on her lap, tell her stories and feed her hot milk and bread and butter while Cissy was ironing or baking. All under Mrs Horlock’s astute gaze, of course. The kitchen fire would be roaring. up the chimney and the smell of spices and baking was very welcoming to Briony. The warmth and the good smells made her feel secure.

Briony opened the lid of the hamper and saw two small malt loaves, that would be full of the raisins that Rosalee loved. A small ham and a large lump of cheese. There were also some home-made scones and a jar of strawberry jam.

‘Thanks, Mrs Horlock, she’ll be very grateful to you.’

The woman waved her hand at Briony. ‘’Tis nothing. There’s a screw of tea on the table to go in and some sugar and butter.’

Briony put these in the hamper and then went to the housekeeper and hugged her, pushing her face, straw hat and all, into the floury-smelling apron. Mrs Horlock looked down on the flame-coloured hair that spiralled out under the hat and felt a rush of affection for the child. She hugged her back.

 

Mother Jones was ensconced by her fire with Rosalee on her lap. She stroked the downy hair and shook her head. This was a child meant for the angels if ever she saw one. Abel watched her and smiled.

‘Poor little thing. Must be hard for that Molly like, Mum. Having one like her. She’ll never be able to earn.’

Mother Jones sniffed. ‘No, true, but she’ll never leave home either, so she’ll never be lonely if she loses her man.’

Abel nodded and looked towards the dividing wall. He had taken a fancy to Molly Cavanagh.

On the other side of the wall, she was busy scrubbing the floor and watching Bernadette and Kerry at their task of cleaning the windows. She had eaten two slices of bread pudding and drunk two cups of hot sweet black tea and it had fortified her for the job in hand. Mother Jones had sent Abel in to show her how to get the fire going in the range, and now she had steaming hot water as often as she wanted it. This thrilled her to bits, though coal was being burnt like nobody’s business. Still, it was only for today.

‘Mum, our Briony’s arrived in a cab!’

Molly sighed and opened the front door. Briony got out of the cab and the driver took down a small hamper and placed it beside her on the dirt road. Molly watched her pay the man and gritted her teeth. As the horse set off, clip-clopping down the lane, Molly walked out of the cottage.

‘Hello, Mum. Mrs Horlock sent you a hamper, to help you get settled like.’

Briony’s voice was wary as she spoke and Molly felt a moment’s sorrow for her coldness towards the child.

‘Come away in, Briony, it’s freezing out here.’

She smiled and followed her mother inside the cottage. Kerry and Bernadette crowded around her as she opened the hamper and showed them what was inside.

‘Where’s Rosalee then?’

‘Oh, she’s with the lady next-door. She’s really nice and gave us bread pudding and a cup of char, and her house smells really funny and she ain’t got no teeth...’

‘Shut up now, Kerry.’

Briony laughed. Trust Kerry to go too far!

She took off her coat and hat, rolled up her sleeves and, taking the chamois leather from Kerry, set about the windows.

Molly watched her as she worked away, and closing her eyes she prayed to God to give her peace of mind where her Briony was concerned. They depended on her wages, far more than they ever had on Eileen’s. It was Briony who was going to keep them in Oxlow Lane, and as Paddy had pointed out, Molly didn’t want to kill the goose that was laying the golden eggs, did she? Forcing herself to move, she walked to Briony and embraced the girl. Briony cuddled her back, joyful that her mother wasn’t cross with her any more. For her part, Molly closed her eyes and swallowed down the disgust that touching Briony always made her feel.

Letting her go, she resumed washing the floor of the cottage and Kerry and Bernadette sorted out the bedding and curtains into neat piles on the table.

‘Give us a song, Kerry.’

‘What do you want, a happy one or a crying one?’

‘Whatever you like.’

Kerry stopped what she was doing and thought for a second, then she began to sing. It was Paddy’s favourite and Briony smiled as she began. Kerry sang this song like an angel.

 

Next-door, Mother Jones and Abel heard the singing and both laughed as Rosalee started to clap her hands.

‘They’re a funny family, Mum. Another girl just arrived by cab, dressed up like a kipper. Only about ten and in a cab mind, not on foot. Where are they getting the money for cabs and the like?’

‘How the bloody hell would I know! They seem nice enough, Abel Jones, so don’t you go snooping round there and put them off us.’

‘I’m only saying, Mum...’

‘Yeah, well, just you say it to yourself then. It’ll all come out in the wash anyway. People’s business rarely stays between four walls. You’ll find out soon enough, son, and when you do I hope it’s what you want to hear!’

 

‘Here’s Dad and Eileen with the beds, Mum!’ Kerry shrieked out the words at the top of her voice, making Molly, who was upstairs getting the bedroom floors swept, cringe. The child thought she was still in the basement where you had to shout to be heard above the din coming from the other families.

‘Shall I let them in?’

Briony laughed out loud.

‘No, Kerry, let’s leave them out there ’til the morning. Of course you should let them in!’

Kerry opened the door grandly. She had been locking and unlocking it all afternoon, and the novelty of the key had yet to wear off.

Briony stamped down the stairs and, after kissing Eileen, began to help while they unloaded the beds and boxes.

Abel Jones watched the proceedings from his window, studying Paddy closely. Then a cab pulled up, and the little one with the red curly hair was kissing them all and getting inside.

He shook his head. There was something funny going on with that family, he’d lay money on it. There was only one place that child would be going in a cab and that was Nellie Deakins’ house.

 

Rosalee sat at the table and drank her broth, Kerry and Bernadette were putting the finishing touches to their room, and Eileen was making up her parents’ bed. Paddy looked at his wife in the glow of the kitchen fire and, sober for once, he felt a stirring in him. As she tended the fire he saw the roundness of her large breasts, caught a glimpse of creamy skin. She wasn’t a bad looker wasn’t Molly, for all the childbearing. He pulled her down on to his lap, and she laughed as the chair creaked under their weight.

‘Isn’t this a grand place, Moll?’

She smiled and nodded. It was her dream come true. The kitchen was also their living room, but Molly didn’t mind. It meant only one fire. The table and chairs were scrubbed and clean, the mats were down, and the new chair was by the fender for when she wanted to sew or just sit and drink one of her never ending cups of tea. Briony said she was going to get Mrs Horlock to let her have some of the old curtains packed away at Mr Dumas’. She’d fit them to the windows and the place would be like a little palace. She frowned as she thought of Briony.

She allowed Paddy to nuzzle her neck. He pulled her face round and kissed her long and hard, forcing his tongue into her mouth, and Molly, for the first time in over a year, responded. In her happiness at being in the house, she wanted everything to go well.

‘Oh, Mum!’ Eileen, who had walked downstairs, saw them kissing and all the revulsion she felt was in her voice. Molly pulled away from Paddy just as Eileen got to the sink and threw up, retching and hawking with the illness that engulfed her at the disgusting sight.

‘Eileen. Eileen, girl.’ Molly put her arm around her shoulders gently, trying to pull her into her arms.

‘Don’t you touch me, Mum!’ Eileen pointed a finger into her mother’s face. ‘Don’t you ever touch me after you’ve touched him. Not after what he’s done to me and Briony. And who’ll be next, that’s what I want to know? Bernie, Kerry, our Rosalee?’

Rosalee, hearing her name mentioned, clapped her hands together and upset the broth.

‘Bri... Bri.’

Bernadette and Kerry, who had come down the stairs at the sound of Eileen’s voice, stood like statues staring at their mother and father, fear in their faces as they realised that something bad was going to happen, and maybe even to one of them.

Molly looked from her daughter to her husband who was sitting in the chair, his head in his hands. Then Paddy got up, took his coat from the back of the door and tried to open the front door. He rattled it hard, trying to force it open, until Kerry ran to him and unlocked it with the key, all her excitement gone now as she watched her father leave the house.

Molly pulled Eileen towards her and cuddled her tightly.

‘Oh Eileen, my baby, my lovely girl. What did he do to you?’

She didn’t say we - what did we do to you? - because the knowledge that she had eventually condoned what her husband had done would not allow itself to surface. She held Eileen while she cried and Kerry cleaned up the mess made by Rosalee’s broth.

Henry Dumas stroked Briony’s hair. It was like stroking silky springs. Briony lay beside him and let him cuddle her. She liked this bit. After all the other business was out of the way, he cuddled her and whispered things to her. She didn’t always understand what he was talking about, but the tone of his voice always sent her off to sleep. She watched drowsily as he got dressed, saw him push his fat little legs into his trousers, and smiled to herself. He always looked funny undressed. But when he was dressed he was like a different person. Briony respected him when he was dressed, and didn’t answer him back or make as many jokes as she did the other times.

She’d turned on her side and closed her eyes to sleep when there was a loud banging on the front door. She sat bolt upright in the bed and stared at Mr Dumas. Then she heard her father’s voice, loud in the hallway, and her heart sank. He was drunk, she could hear it in every word he said.

‘Where’s me girl? I want me girl this minute!’

Briony heard Cissy’s and Mrs Horlock’s voices trying to quieten him. As Henry Dumas walked towards the door, Briony was off the bed and in front of him.

‘Stay up here. I’ll see to me dad.’ Instinctively she knew that as her father was, if he saw Henry Dumas, all hell would break loose.

Paddy looked up and saw her walking towards him. She looked beautiful. In the white lawn nightdress and with her spectacular hair unbound, she was like a vision. Through his drink-crazed mind he realised exactly what he had done to her and to Eileen, and it made him sick inside.

‘I’ve come to take you home, Briony, my baby.’ His voice was drenched with tears.

She flicked a glance at Mrs Horlock and then back at her father.

‘Come into the warm, Dad, you’re freezing.’

She opened the door to the morning room and he followed her inside. Mrs Horlock lit the gas lamps and Briony pushed the poker in the fire to get a blaze.

‘What’s all the noise about then, Dad?’

Paddy settled himself in a chair and stared at his daughter.

‘I’ve come to take you home, lovie. This is all wrong. Eileen’s been ... she’s accusing me something terrible... Your ma ...’

He couldn’t get the words out to explain himself, but Briony understood him well enough.

‘But, Dad, I like it here. I don’t want to go home.’

Paddy blinked his eyes as if to reassure himself he had heard right.

‘It’s lovely here, Dad. Mr Dumas is really nice to me and I’ve got Cissy and Mrs Horlock looking after me, and I go out to Barking Park every day ...’

Her voice trailed off. Her mother must have caused all sorts of trouble for her dad to be here now. Even with a drink in him, he was aware of what the money meant each week. Now they’d all moved into the new house, how the hell did they think they’d pay the rent?