No Wings to Fly (34 page)

Taking a breath, Lily picked up the first envelope. Briefly, very briefly, the concept of privacy and invasion flashed through her mind, but in seconds it was gone and with cool fingers she withdrew the letter and opened it out. On a sheet of cheap, lined paper, in her brother’s unmistakeable hand she saw the few words that he had written:

Lily read the letter through again, then put it down and
turned her attention to the other one. Without hesitation she took the letter from the envelope, unfolded it and laid it before her on the table. The address was the same, but the date of it was the eleventh of October, nearly a month following the first letter. In it, Tom had written:

Lily remained at the table with the two open letters before her on the dark crimson cloth. The fire in the range had burnt low and the room had grown colder. Still she continued to sit there.

Later, lying in bed beside the sleeping Dora, she felt far from sleep, and turned restlessly on the old mattress, trying to find comfort. So many things were going through her head, tumbling round in her brain. She thought of Tom and his unhappiness and his pleas to be accepted back into his father’s heart – for there was no doubt in her mind as to whom the letter was meant for – and also of her father and his last hours. She thought too of her stepmother and the present, sudden coldness in her manner. She could find no accounting for it.

Her thoughts moved on, shifting with the restlessness of her body and her brain. She thought of Joel, and of their
meeting and her revelation. Tomorrow she would return to Sherrell, and there would surely be a letter there waiting for her, a letter from him.

At last, in the early hours, she fell asleep.

In spite of having little sleep, Lily was up early the following morning, and when she was dressed went downstairs into the kitchen where her stepmother was preparing the breakfast. When Dora came downstairs the three of them sat down to eat, the meal with her stepmother proving, as Lily expected, to be a very quiet affair. Had it not been for Dora’s occasional bursts of chatter it might have passed in silence.

When the the breakfast things were cleared away and washed up, Lily was ready to leave for the station. She was eager now to get away from the atmosphere in the house. Having already said her goodbyes to Dora, who had gone off to call on a neighbouring friend, she was alone with her stepmother.

‘So,’ said Mrs Clair, ‘you’re off now, are you?’

‘Yes.’ Lily stood before the small looking glass beside the chimney, making a last adjustment to the black crêpe ribbon on her bonnet. ‘There’s a train at eleven-thirty.’ Her overnight bag had been packed since early that morning.

‘Make sure you’ve got everything,’ Mrs Clair said.

‘Yes, I have, thanks.’

‘Better not go without this, then.’ As Mrs Clair spoke, she put a hand into her apron pocket and brought out an item which she held out. Lily took it from her and saw at once what it was. In her palm lay a small, soft leather pouch which, she knew, held a gold half-hunter watch.

She gazed down at the precious treasure. She had seen it once or twice over the years, stored carefully away in a drawer. ‘My mother’s watch,’ she said in a tone of wonder.

‘Yes, your mother’s watch.’ Mrs Clair’s voice was cold. ‘Your father insisted it came to you.’

Lily’s heart was suddenly full. She slipped the watch from its little pouch and looked at its dull gleam. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Oh, Mother, thank you, so much.’

‘There’s nothing to thank me for,’ Mrs Clair said shortly. ‘I just told you, your father said you had to have it.’ The briefest pause, and she added, ‘Anyway, you’d better get off, or you’ll miss your train.’

‘Yes. Yes.’ Lily took up her reticule and carefully placed the watch inside. Then she bent and picked up her overnight bag. Moving to the door leading to the scullery, she opened it and turned back to face her stepmother.

‘Well – Mother – I’ll say goodbye.’

‘Yes,’ Mrs Clair said, and then she added quickly, as if the words had been bubbling up inside her, searching for a way out: ‘You’ll be hearing from the solicitor in the next week or two, no doubt.’

‘The solicitor?’ Lily frowned. ‘What do you mean? Why should I be hearing from a solicitor?’

‘Your father’s solicitor. Mr Robson of Cunningham and West.’

‘But – but why?’

‘Because of the money, of course.’

‘The money?’

‘The money. Didn’t you know?’ Mrs Clair’s mouth was pinched and thin. ‘Didn’t your father mention it?’

‘I don’t know anything about any money. Father never spoke of such a thing to me.’

‘No – well – perhaps not.’ Mrs Clair spoke dismissively. ‘I only learnt of it myself yesterday morning, when I saw his will.’

‘Mother,’ Lily said after a moment, ‘what is this all about?’

‘He’s left you money, in case you didn’t know.’ She
almost hissed the words out. ‘As if the watch wasn’t enough, he left you money too.’

Lily gave a little shake of her head. ‘I know nothing about this.’

‘No? Well, for your information he’s left you fifteen pounds.’

Lily’s astonishment showed in her face. ‘Fifteen pounds. So much money.’

‘Yes, so much money,’ Mrs Clair said with a nod, then added bitterly, ‘As if his wife and child didn’t have need of it.’

Lily saw now the reason for her stepmother’s antagonism. So it was this, the money her father had left. It had been eating away at her, festering, for twenty-four hours.

‘I wasn’t expecting anything,’ Lily said. ‘Not a thing. I thought everything would go to you and Dora.’

‘
Yes
,’ Mrs Clair hissed, ‘and so it should have. We have so little, Dora and I.’

‘But he left everything else to you, didn’t he?’

‘Oh, yes, he did. He left us the rest of his money, but how far will that take us?’

‘But isn’t there a pension,’ Lily said, ‘from his workplace?’

‘Oh, how nice of you to mention that,’ Mrs Clair said. ‘Yes, there is a pension – of sorts – but that won’t buy us very much. And I shall get a little help from the Friendly Society, but if I don’t have to start taking in washing, or getting a job at the tile factory it’ll be a wonder.’ She was glaring at Lily, her lip curled. ‘And what have you ever done for him that he should reward you in such a way? All you ever did for him was bring him heartache and disgrace, and now he leaves you
this
.’

Lily was so amazed at the hostility that she could not speak. She stood there at the door, taking in her step-mother’s attack. Mrs Clair was not to be stopped.

‘It isn’t as if you needed the money,’ she said. ‘You’re starting in a new post on Monday. You’re to become a governess, for heaven’s sake. You’re nineteen, and you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. What about Dora? And what about me? My life now is finished. I’ve got no husband, and hardly any money coming in. What’s going to happen to
me
?’

At last Lily found a voice. ‘I can scarcely believe I’m hearing this,’ she said. ‘All this because of fifteen pounds. I could see that something was eating you, but I couldn’t imagine what it was.
Fifteen pounds
. Good God, Mother, if it means that much to you, you can have it. Have it and welcome.’ She shook her head in disgust. ‘As soon as the money comes to me I’ll send it on to you. God forbid I should ever take what you see as yours.’

‘Well, it’s not fair,’ Mrs Clair said, her angry voice approaching a whine. ‘It’s just not fair.’

‘Fair,’ Lily said. ‘You don’t know the meaning of the word, and you never have.’ After she had spoken, she realised that she had never in her life addressed her stepmother in such a way, and she stood a little astonished at her own temerity.

Her stepmother too was surprised by it. She gazed at Lily for a second or two with her mouth slightly open, then said, grinding the words out, ‘I think you’d best be off to get your train. You wouldn’t want to miss it.’

‘No,’ Lily said. ‘I wouldn’t want to miss it – and I wouldn’t want to stay in your company any longer than I have to.’ She paused, took a breath. ‘But before I go I’ve got one or two things I want to say.’

Mrs Clair put a hand up to her open mouth. This was a new side to her stepdaughter. ‘Oh, listen to it,’ she said scornfully. ‘If your father could hear you and see you now.’

‘Well, he cannot – more’s the pity,’ Lily said. ‘And while we’re on the subject of my father, let me ask you something.
Why didn’t you let me know sooner that he was so ill? When I got here you said he’d been ill for weeks – so why wasn’t I sent for? He told me himself that he’d been waiting for me.’

‘I told you,’ Mrs Clair said, ‘I hadn’t got a minute to myself. Caring for a sick man – you don’t know what it’s like.’

‘Yes, so you told me,’ Lily said. ‘But what about my brother Tom?’

Her stepmother’s mouth twisted, the upper lip curving in contempt. ‘Oh, now we’re on to your brother, are we? I wondered how long it would be before we got round to him. What about him, anyway?’

‘Why didn’t you let him know? Why didn’t you write and tell him that Father was ill?’

‘I’ll tell you why. Because I didn’t have time to sit writing to everybody. I already said – there was so much to do.’

‘Tom isn’t
everybody
,’ Lily said. ‘Thomas was Father’s son, his only son. And Father was sick, very sick – in fact near to dying, you told me –’ She felt tears suddenly threaten as she uttered these last words, but she fought them back; she would not cry; she would not. ‘Were you ever going to write and tell him?’ she said.

‘This is absolutely outrageous.’ Mrs Clair glared at Lily. ‘I’m not going to be taken to task like this by you. While you’ve been away you’ve forgotten your place, miss, and how to show respect. You’ve forgotten your manners too.’

‘You’re not getting round it like that, by attacking
me
.’ Lily’s voice was heavy with scorn. ‘Tom loved his father, and he should have been here at such a time. He had a right to be. You should have written and told him.’

‘Oh, I should, should I?’ Mrs Clair’s defensive tone was sharp. ‘Well, it might have helped if we knew where he was. We haven’t had a word in ages. How were we supposed to know where he was?’

‘That is a lie,’ Lily said.

Mrs Clair’s small mouth opened in renewed outrage. ‘How dare you! You – accuse me of lying! You, the greatest liar on earth – to accuse me.’

‘I’m not a liar,’ Lily said. ‘But
you are
.’ Putting down her bag and reticule, she stepped to the shelf beside the chimney breast and snatched up her stepmother’s sewing box. At the table she set it down. Flinging open the lid, she lifted out the inner tray, then dipped in her hand and brought out Tom’s two letters.

‘
Here
.’ She held them up as she turned back to face her stepmother. ‘Here they are, Tom’s letters, just where you put them, hid them – safely away from any eyes but your own. Just where you put them – without having the decency to show them to my father.’ She put the letters down on the table. Her heart was thumping in her breast.

Her stepmother was standing looking at her, her tight-shut lips a thin line of fury and self-righteousness. ‘And indeed why not?’ she spat. ‘Your father was already ill. Why should he be bothered by such things? Your brother was never anything but trouble. And as for writing to ask for forgiveness, I should think he’d have been ashamed even to show his face here again. In case you’ve forgotten, he went to prison for being a common thief.’

‘He stole a piece of celery!’ Lily’s voice was full of incredulity. ‘He didn’t murder anyone or rob a bank.’

‘He
stole
.’

‘Yes! A piece of celery. He was hungry, and he was desperate.’

‘Desperate! In the eyes of the law he’s a thief!’

‘Yes,’ Lily hissed, struggling to hold back her tears, ‘and for that – for stealing a piece of celery they locked him up with some of the most evil men in the country.’ Now her tears could not be held back, and they ran down her cheeks.
‘It was a piece of celery, Mother. He stole it, and my God he has certainly paid the price for it. Would you punish him for ever?’

‘It doesn’t matter what he stole. He went to prison and he brought disgrace on us.’

‘Disgrace,’ Lily echoed.

‘Yes, disgrace. Which is something that might have concerned you too, in your own behaviour.’

Mrs Clair’s words were shocking to Lily. Her father had told her that he no longer blamed her for what had happened, and that he accepted her story of the attack by Mr Haskin. Clearly not so her stepmother. Lily realised now that Mrs Clair would never alter her view.

‘Yes,’ Lily said, ‘and you treated me like an outcast. Someone totally immoral.’ Turning from her stepmother’s hostile gaze, she took up her bags, and once more stepped to the door. Here again she turned.

‘I shall not be coming back,’ she said, brushing a hand across her tear-stained cheek. ‘We shall not meet again. I shall miss seeing Dora, for she’s a dear child and I love her. I can only hope that she takes after her father and not you.’