No Wings to Fly (57 page)

She held on to the thought, and in all the horror of the past weeks it was the one single ray, the one candle flame, that brought light into the dark.

There came in the post the next day a letter from the Corster coroner’s Court informing her that the inquest into the death of her brother would be resumed on November the first, and that she would be required to attend on that morning at ten-thirty.

The next day, Thursday, brought a letter in answer to her response to the classified advertisement in the
Corster Gazette
. In it, the writer, a Mr Arthur Molle, said that he and his wife were seeking a governess for their son and daughter of six and seven years, from the beginning of the new year. He would be away from home for a while, he
added, but if Miss Clair was interested he would like her to come to Little Hawes for interview in mid-November. A specific day and time would be arranged. Lily wrote back at once to say she would be pleased to attend, and would look forward to hearing again from Mr Molle nearer the time.

On Friday, the thought was constantly with her that Joel would be setting out from Paris that evening – and on Saturday too, from the moment she awoke, he was there on her mind. She did not know at what hour he would be arriving at his home in Corster, but frequently she pictured him on his journey, stepping off the boat at Dover or sitting on the train bound for the West Country. Each hour brought her nearer the moment when they would be together.

Then Sunday came, at last, and the minutes and the hours dragged by, but eventually, at long last, it was time to get ready to go to meet him.

On the train to Corster she sat looking out at the autumn scenery. Occasionally, when the train passed through areas deeply shadowed by trees or the high chalk banks that marked the route she caught brief glimpses of her reflection. Though these revealed nothing of the shine of anticipation in her eyes, or the touch of anxiety in the set of her mouth, she knew that they must be there.

In Corster when she alighted she felt the urge to hurry, but she held back; it was not yet six o’clock. Near the end of the platform was a ladies’ waiting room, and she went in and sat on a bench while fifteen slow minutes passed by. From where she sat she kept an eye on the station clock, and when the hands came to six-fifteen she picked up her bag and umbrella and went out of the station.

The town’s streets were not so busy on a Sunday. As she turned into Market Street she heard the clock of St
Margaret’s church strike the half-hour. The Crimmond restaurant was well-established in Corster. A wide-fronted Georgian building, it had tubs of evergreens on either side of its oak front door. It was six-thirty when Lily entered, and she was approached at once by the head waiter, who gave her a little bow, and said, ‘Yes, madam, good evening.’

Lily politely returned his greeting and said that she was there to meet a friend, Mr Goodhart. As she spoke she was already looking around, hoping to catch sight of Joel. The interior was not spacious, and several diners were already seated, though most of the tables were still empty. Did madam’s friend make a reservation, the waiter asked, to which Lily replied that she thought not. Then perhaps, the man said, she would like to take a seat and wait for the gentleman. She thanked him and he took her coat from her and led her to a table over by a window. As she sat down the waiter asked her if she would like to order something while she waited. Although she wanted nothing, she said she would have a little tea.

As she sat there, other diners came in and were led to their places. The waiter brought her tea in a thick white china pot and she poured it out and sat sipping at it, wondering where to direct her gaze. She felt self-conscious sitting there alone, when every other diner in the place was in company. Eventually she heard the sound of the church clock striking the hour of seven. By this time the restaurant was well over half full. She had drunk one cup of tea that she did not want, and now poured a second. She toyed with it merely, though, sipping in a desultory fashion. When the waiter came to her once more he looked at her sympathetically. Did madam wish for anything else? he asked, and Lily replied with thanks that she did not, not for the present. He nodded his head and went away again.

The minutes passed. Almost every table in the place was now occupied. She knew she could not continue to sit there
without ordering something more – and now here was the waiter coming to her again, his eyebrows rising slightly as he asked the question he was bound to ask: ‘Is there anything else you would like, madam?’ No, she said, thanking him, and then added, ‘Please – if you’d be kind enough to bring me my bill . . .’ Minutes later she had paid, and was taking up her bag and umbrella.

As she stepped out into the street the church clock struck eight. The gaslamps had been lit, and in the gloom she stood looking along the row of shops towards the square, and then up to the left, in the direction of the town hall and the municipal buildings, peering at the shadows of the anonymous figures that moved in the lamps’ glow. Where was Joel? What could have happened to him?

She continued to stand there on the pavement, close to the restaurant’s entrance. She would wait a further half-hour; she would not move until the clock struck half-past. She stayed there while the evening sojourners strolled past and as the diners in the restaurant finished their dinners and emerged, replete, to head for their homes.

The night air was growing chill now, and a keen wind came whipping up from the direction of the river. She must go. On the church tower the clock struck a single chime. As the sound died away she turned and walked miserably towards the station.

In the schoolroom next day Lily continued about her duties, giving Lavinia her lessons, while downstairs the preparations continued apace for the move to Scotland. While Mrs Soameson supervised the sorting and the packing of the things that would go up north, Mr Soameson was out of the house on his own business, only getting home late in the evenings, too exhausted to do more.

When Tuesday came, with no word from Joel, Lily felt increasingly at a loss. She had no way of knowing even where he was. There was no point in writing to him in Paris if he had already left, while at the same time she balked at writing to him at his family home in Corster. She could do nothing other than continue to wait.

She was in turmoil as she lay in bed that night, her mind constantly torn. One moment she would be thinking of Joel, and then, in trying to wrench her thoughts in a different direction, she would find herself thinking of Tom, and the inquest next day at which she must attend. At other times she found her thoughts straying to the small child who slept in his little bed on the other side of the landing. It was close on three o’clock when she eventually fell asleep.

From Corster Junction station the next morning she took an omnibus to the coroner’s court, arriving with plenty of time to spare. On giving her name to a clerk at a desk she was directed to a side room and instructed to wait until the court was in session, after which time she would be called
in. The room she entered was a shabby, soulless place with marks and stains on the walls, and cuts and scratches in the wood of the centre table and the benches. It was empty when she went in, but after several minutes other people began to arrive. Where some were poorly dressed and coarsely spoken, others were obviously of a higher class. All of them, she assumed, were there as witnesses. Among them she recognised the two young women who had been in the museum that day and who had seen Tom’s plunge from the window.

As the clock on the wall ticked the time away, people came and went, while those waiting shuffled their feet, and muttered to one another in low conversations. Some seemed relatively light-hearted, while others appeared grave and preoccupied. Two or three of the men sat smoking pipes or cigarettes, and the smoke drifted in the stale air and clung to the tobacco-stained walls. Every so often an officer of the court appeared at the door and called out the name of someone required in the courtroom. At last, after what seemed an age, Lily’s own name was called.

A few minutes later she was in the courtroom, standing before the court officials and a handful of spectators, answering the coroner’s questions. In a low voice, halting at times, she spoke of her last moments with Tom in the museum gallery, and also of the accident which had resulted in the amputation of his hand. There could be no question to anyone but that his final act had been anything but deliberate, but the elderly coroner seemed to understand the total desperation of Tom’s last moments, and spoke of him in kindly tones.

At last she was told she might step down, and the coroner announced an adjournment until two-thirty. She was instructed to return at that time. Rather than sit in the waiting room she wandered out into the street, and from there to a coffee house where she drank a cup of tea. She
was back in the courthouse well before two-thirty, and after sitting waiting for an hour was informed by the clerk that the inquiry was over and that she was free to go. He went on to say that there had been a verdict returned of ‘Suicide while the balance of the mind was disturbed’. She nodded and thanked him and went out into the grey November afternoon. It was over.

Returning to Happerfell, Lily hoped that she would find that there was some word from Joel awaiting her, but there was none. Mrs Soameson, however, sought Lily out and asked her to join her in the drawing room. When Lily went in, she found her talking with an aproned workman who was taking down some of the pictures and wrapping them to be packed for transport. Mrs Soameson stayed long enough to give the man further instructions, then left him, saying to Lily, ‘Come, let’s go somewhere where we can talk for a minute.’ She led the way into the morning room, sat down and gestured for Lily to be seated in the chair opposite.

‘Was it awful?’ she asked. ‘I thought of you so many times, having to go through that. It must have been dreadful for you. So very upsetting.’

‘Yes,’ Lily murmured with a little nod. ‘Yes, it was – difficult.’

‘And is it – all over now?’

‘Yes. There was a verdict. Now it’s finished.’

‘I see. And the verdict – it was what you expected?’

‘Yes. Suicide.’

Mrs Soameson let out her breath on a deep sigh. ‘It’s so tragic,’ she said. ‘Such a young life. Wasted like that.’

Lily said nothing, but sat with lips compressed, not trusting herself to speak. After a moment Mrs Soameson said, leaning forward a little in her chair:

‘The business – with the inquest this morning – that isn’t
the only reason I wanted to talk to you now. Something has come up. We’re leaving even sooner than we’d planned.’

‘You’re not going at the end of next week?’

‘No, we’re not. We’re leaving on Saturday.’

‘On Saturday? This coming Saturday?’

Mrs Soameson nodded. ‘Indeed we are – and it’s all such a terrible rush, but it’s got to be done. Something has come up in Scotland – all to do with the business and the house – and Mr Soameson says there’s nothing for it but that we get there as soon as possible.’ Her tone changed a little as she added, ‘This whole thing is an upheaval for you too, I know. When you came here you were expecting to stay on at least another month, and now it’s thrown all your plans up into the air. I’m so sorry it’s happened for you this way.’

Lily said, ‘Well – if it has to be, ma’am. It can’t be helped.’

‘No, it can’t be helped. I’m afraid it can’t.’ A pause. ‘However, you won’t need to go back to Sherrell any sooner, for we’d like you to stay on for a week or so and help Nurse look after Joshie. It’ll give her a little respite when she needs it.’

‘But – isn’t he going with you on Saturday?’

‘Well, we’ve decided against it. I don’t think it would be a good idea at all. I think he’s coming down with a little cold, and I don’t want him taking that awful long journey if he’s under the weather. And the house in Edinburgh will be in such a state – it’s going to need all our concentration to get it in order and to find places for our things. Lavinia’s coming with us, but I think it’s better that Joshie stays on for a while. I thought you might also, while you’re here, be able to help Mrs Lemmon and Susie with some of the packing that’s yet to be done. If you have time, of course. There won’t be a lot, but it would be a great help to us if you could manage it.’

‘Yes, of course. I’ll help in any way I can.’

‘Are you sure you don’t mind? Staying on to help with Josh?’

‘No, not at all. I’ll be glad to do it.’

‘He’s not a demanding child, as you know, and he’s fond of you. Are you sure it’s not a terrible imposition?’

‘No,’ Lily said at once. ‘Not at all.’

‘Good. That’s splendid. I thought also that you might do a little work with him on his letters – now that he’s beginning to read. What d’you think of that?’

‘Yes. Oh, yes, I’d love to.’

‘He’s a bright boy. I’ve been going through his little primers with him – as Miss Cattock has too – and he learns very quickly.’

‘Oh, I’d love to help him, if I can,’ Lily said.

Mrs Soameson nodded. ‘That’s excellent. Mr Soameson and I have talked it over – and we’d like you to stay on till the Sunday of next week. That’s the twelfth. Would that be all right?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Splendid. Joshie should be over his cold by then and we’ll have had a week to get the house in order. Miss Cattock can bring him up on the train, setting out on that day, Sunday. They’ll travel overnight and we’ll meet them from the train on Monday morning. I hope by then we shall have everything ready for him. He doesn’t like upheaval. It tends to make him anxious. Did I tell you that Lizzie will be coming along with us also on Saturday? We shall need all the help we can get, I tell you, though Mrs Lemmon will be staying behind for a few days, as will Mr Beeching. They’ll be joining us a little later too.’ She gestured to where two large tea-chests stood near the wall. ‘All this endless packing. We seem to have accumulated so much while we’ve been here. A lot of it went off this morning – quite a wagon-load. It’s going to be chaos there till we get things sorted out.’ She gave a sigh, then added, ‘Anyway, that’s
not your problem. Mr Soameson will see about your wages before we leave, of course.’