No Wings to Fly (32 page)

‘Downstairs.’

‘And Dora?’

‘She’s at school.’

‘It’s better for her not to be around. A sickroom’s no place for a child.’ He paused, then smiled. ‘Oh, I’m so glad for you, Lily. Governess. Just fancy.’

‘Yes.’

‘I – I want you to be happy, Lily. And I know you miss the babby, but – oh, I so want you to be happy.’

She returned his smile. ‘I – I get by, Father,’ she said. Then she added, ‘There are so many with truly dreadful lives. I’ve nothing to complain about.’

‘Good. That’s a sensible girl.’ He remained silent for a moment, then he asked, ‘Is there someone in your life . . .? Have you got a – a special acquaintance? – a sweetheart?’

She hesitated before answering. ‘No. No, I haven’t.’

‘What about that young man you were seeing?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘No.’

‘Well . . .’ he said, ‘– in time you’ll meet someone . . .’

Neither spoke for some moments, then she said: ‘Father, have you – have you heard anything from Tom?’

He gave a sigh. ‘Oh, that boy. That boy.’

‘Does he know – that you’re ill?’

He sighed again and shifted his head slightly on the pillow. ‘Oh, that boy. What a disappointment he’s been. All his life – and that he should turn out the way he has. Prison. Just think of it. The shame he’s brought on us. You’ll never know. It affected your mother very deeply.’

Lily said, unable to stop herself: ‘It was a piece of celery, Father. He hadn’t eaten, and he was hungry.’ Anger crept
into her voice. ‘A piece of celery, and they put him in gaol for that.’

Her father said nothing to this. After a moment, he asked, ‘Have
you
seen him – Thomas?’

‘Yes. Just over a week ago.’

‘Where is he now?’

‘He’s working on a farm in Halls Haven – but I thought you knew that. He said he’d written to you.’

‘Did he?’

‘He said he’d written twice, but that he’d got no answer to his letters.’

Mr Clair frowned. ‘We haven’t heard a word.’ He winced and drew in his breath, and Lily said quickly, ‘Can I get you something? Shall I go and call Mother?’

Briefly he closed his eyes. ‘No – leave her be. It’ll pass. She’s on the go – from morning till night. What time is it?’ As he spoke he half turned his head towards the chest beside the bed, where his watch lay. She picked it up, opened it and looked at the time. ‘It’s almost two.’

‘Not time for my medicine yet.’ He sighed. ‘I get by on the medicine. God be praised for it. The doctor said it’s sometimes referred to as Sister Euphoria. Whatever they call it, I know I couldn’t do without it.’ He paused, then asked, ‘How – how was he?’

‘How – ?’

‘Thomas. How was he when you saw him? Was he all right?’

At the question she saw Tom as he had stood before her at the corner of the lane. ‘He – he’s well,’ she lied. After a second she added, truthfully: ‘He misses you, Father. And – he needs you.’

Mr Clair frowned, gazing off. ‘I’d like to have seen him,’ he said.

‘But why hasn’t he been told that you’re ill? He should have been told.’

‘We don’t know where he is. Your mother said – there’s no address for him any longer. There’s – no way of getting in touch with him.’

Lily said, ‘But Father, I told you – he said he wrote to you.’

As she finished speaking a violent tremor went through his body, and she saw the bedcovers rise up as his back arched. At the same time he let out a sound that was half groan and half cry. His mouth contorted, and his eyes briefly rolled back in their sockets. Beneath her fingers his hand convulsed and clenched, while his other hand clutched at his belly. ‘Call – call your mother, will you?’ he gasped.

Lily needed no second telling. At once she was rising, the rug twisting under her boot as she turned for the door.

Lily got to the foot of the stairs and turned into the kitchen where her stepmother came towards her, wiping her hands on a cotton towel. ‘What’s the matter?’ Mrs Clair said anxiously. ‘Is he worse?’

‘He’s in pain,’ Lily said. ‘Oh, Mother, he’s in so much pain.’

Mrs Clair shook her head distractedly. ‘He’s had his drops. He shouldn’t be needing more just yet.’ She gave a sigh. ‘He needs more and more of the stuff to keep the pain away. That’s the way it’s been going.’ She tossed the cloth onto the table and stepped past Lily. ‘I’ll have to give him some more. It’s the only thing to do. Like Dr Helligan told me – there’s no point in denying him. He has to have it. He needs it.’

She passed through into the hall and started up the stairs, and Lily went after her. In the bedroom Mrs Clair stopped beside the bed and looked down at her husband. He lay with his eyes screwed up and his lips drawn back over his teeth. The pain he was feeling was written in every line of his face.

‘It’s bad, is it, darlin’?’ Mrs Clair said, bending low over the bed. Hearing the words, Lily was almost shocked. She had never before heard her speak to her father in such an intimate way. Her stepmother had usually addressed him as Father, sometimes Edwin. Now she was calling him darlin’, and her tone, though matter-of-fact, was tender. They had a life together, Lily realised, and not just as parents, but as lovers.

As Lily stood by, her stepmother poured water into a glass, then took up a medicine bottle from the top of the chest and carefully counted out some drops into it. That done, she put one hand behind Mr Clair’s head. ‘There, my dear, you drink that.’

Lily watched as her father, between breaths, gulped from the glass. When it was drained, Mrs Clair eased him back onto the pillow. ‘There,’ she laid her hand lightly on his shoulder, ‘you’ll be all right now. A few minutes and you’ll feel better. Take that nasty pain away.’

Lily observed the two of them, and their closeness as her stepmother ministered to him both with pragmatism and tenderness. As the minutes passed she watched too as the medicine slowly began to do its work. Gradually the drug took hold, and her father’s tight, drawn-back lips by degrees relaxed, as did his bony-knuckled hands that gripped the coverlet. His eyes closed, and slowly his whole body appeared to relax and settle into the bed.

‘He’ll be all right now. Won’t you, darlin’?’ Mrs Clair reached down and gently touched her husband’s cheek. ‘You’ll be better now. No more pain for a while.’ She remained standing there for some moments, then turned to Lily. ‘You going to sit with him for a bit longer, are you?’

‘Yes, I’d like to.’

‘Good. He’d like that too.’ She gave his shoulder the lightest pat. ‘I’ll just be downstairs, dear. If you need me Lily’ll come and get me. All right?’

‘Yes – all right.’ Mr Clair spoke for the first time following his attack of pain, his voice weak and hoarse. His wife continued to look down at him for a moment longer, then stepped away. In the doorway she turned to Lily and said:

‘I should think you’ll be feeling dry too. I’ll bring you up some tea in a minute.’

Lily was a little taken aback at her mother’s words and
the unaccustomed slight softness of tone. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

Mrs Clair stepped out onto the small landing and started down the stairs. Lily remained there for a second then moved to the chair and sat down.

‘How are you now, Father?’ she asked, leaning towards him. ‘Is the pain easing?’

‘Yes,’ he breathed. ‘Yes, it is, thank God.’

He did not speak again for some time, but was still, one hand beneath the covers and the other on top. Lily watched him as he lay with closed eyes. His breathing, though still shallow, now sounded a little more even. He was not sleeping, though, and when she shifted on the seat, causing the chair to creak, he opened his eyes. ‘You’re not going, are you?’ he said.

‘No, of course not. I told you, I’ll be here as long as you want me.’

‘Good.’ The faintest nod of his head on the pillow, the faintest touch of a smile.

As the minutes passed it was evident that his discomfort was diminishing, and with a little water to sooth his dry throat, he appeared to relax even more. A while later Mrs Clair appeared with a mug of tea for Lily, and after addressing a few quiet words to her husband went away again to resume her work downstairs.

Lily sat sipping at her tea while the time crept by. After a while her father began to talk again, in a desultory manner at first, but as the minutes passed his speech began to flow, and she realised that it was due to the laudanum. He spoke of several things: of his work at the factory, and his colleagues there, and then of his childhood amid the hills and fields of Wiltshire. He told of adventures he had had and of people he had met. His voice, more animated, was at times almost passionate, and Lily found herself discovering facets of his life that she had never known. At one time he
spoke of an incident that had occurred on his wedding day, and she realised with a little thrill that it was his first marriage he was referring to. When he spoke of Ellen, his bride, Lily leant forward on the chair. ‘Oh, Father, tell me – what was she like?’ she said. ‘You never speak of her.’

‘Oh, she was a fine-looking young woman,’ he said. ‘One of the prettiest girls in the village.’ He paused, looking directly at Lily. ‘And you’re the spit of her, you know. Sometimes I see her in you so clearly.’

The words pleased Lily so much, and she hoped to hear more, but he frowned and briefly closed his eyes and murmured, ‘Ah, but that’s in the past,’ and went on to talk of other things. Before long, however, his words began to slow, and his eyelids flickered and drooped. Soon he was asleep, his breathing regular and his hand relaxed on the coverlet. Through the partly open door came the faint sound of footfalls on the stair, and a few moments later Mrs Clair appeared.

‘He’s sleeping,’ Lily said softly as her stepmother came into the room.

Mrs Clair gave a nod. ‘Good. He sleeps a lot these days.’ She stood looking down at him. ‘We can leave him now for a while. He’ll be all right – and we’ll listen out. Come on downstairs. Have something to eat.’

Lily was aware once again of her stepmother speaking to her in a softer tone than she had used in the past, and was so glad of it. Perhaps, the notion crossed her mind, it had to do with her having been away for so long. She was older now. She had gone away a mere girl, and had come back a woman. She could no longer be seen as the child she had been.

In the kitchen she sat at the table and ate a small slice of cold pork pie with a piece of cheese. Her stepmother ate nothing. The afternoon sky was dark with cloud, and one of the lamps had been lit. Now that the two women were
away from the sickroom and face to face, alone, an awkwardness and a tension descended between them. ‘So,’ Mrs Clair said into the hush of the room, ‘how have things been with you? You’ve been staying on in Sherrell, you wrote, and working at becoming a governess.’

‘Yes, I have, Mother,’ Lily replied, ‘and now I’ve been offered a position.’

‘A position? A position as governess?’

‘Yes. With a family in Little Patten.’

‘Well – that’s something, I’m sure. Have you told your father?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m sure he was very pleased to know.’

‘Yes, he was.’

‘Indeed, and why not? He’s always wanted the best for you. So, when do you begin with this new position?’

‘A week Monday. On the second.’

‘Oh – so soon.’

‘Yes.’ Lily, a little carried away with the prospect of her forthcoming employment, went on enthusiastically, ‘I was there for an interview yesterday. And I met the children, twin girls, Alice and Rose. They seem such a very nice little pair. I’m sure I’m going to love it. Mrs Acland is a charming lady, and the house is –’

She got no further, for Mrs Clair was giving a sniff, and saying, ‘Oh – very grand indeed, eh?’ and glancing at the clock. ‘Look at the time,’ she said. ‘Dora will be in from school any minute.’

With her stepmother’s words, Lily realised that nothing more of her life or progress was to be spoken of. She would not pursue it further. ‘How is Dora?’ she said. ‘How is she taking Father’s illness?’

‘Oh, I don’t like her to see her father the way he is,’ Mrs Clair replied. ‘She insists he’s going to get better, and I encourage her to believe it, but I know she knows the truth.
It’ll be bad enough for her when it finally happens, and it won’t be long, going by what the doctor says.’

‘When did you say the doctor is coming again?’ Lily asked. ‘Does he come every day?’

‘Almost. He’ll be here again tomorrow. Though of course I can send for him any time if there’s an emergency. Though what he’d be able to do, I don’t know.’

‘Mother,’ Lily said, ‘I wish you had let me know sooner that Father was so ill. I should have been here days ago.’

‘Well, I’m sorry, but I haven’t had a minute,’ Mrs Clair said. ‘Caring for a sick man – you can’t imagine what it’s like. You don’t get a moment to yourself.’

‘What about Tom? Have you written to tell him Father’s ill? He should be here at a time like this.’

‘Oh, really,’ Mrs Clair said in a tired, defensive tone. ‘Well, it might help matters if we knew where he was.’

‘But he told me he’d written to you,’ Lily said. ‘He told me himself.’

Mrs Clair put her cup down sharply in the saucer. ‘Oh, did he indeed? Well, I’m sorry, but we never heard a word from him.’

‘He’s got to be told, Mother,’ Lily said. ‘I know where he is, and I’ll write to him at once. I’ll tell him he must come home as soon as he can.’

‘As you wish. I’ve got work to get on with.’

As Mrs Clair went out to the scullery with the china and cutlery, Lily brought the writing slope to the table and opened it up. Then she sat down and wrote a brief letter to Tom, telling him that their father was very ill, and that he should come to see him as soon as possible. When the letter was finished she went into the scullery where her stepmother stood at the sink. ‘I’ve written to Thomas,’ she said. ‘If I go and post it now he might get it tomorrow.’

It took Lily twenty minutes to walk to the post office,
and the November wind was cold in her face, but she was barely aware of it. She paid the postmistress for a stamp and left the letter in the woman’s hands. Tom would receive it tomorrow or the day after, though his coming to his father in time was a hope she hardly dared entertain.