So Long At the Fair (26 page)

‘Why can’t you?’

‘No, I just – I can’t.’

‘It don’t look like you’ve got any choice. But whatever ’appens, she’s not staying with us.’

‘But you’ve got two bedrooms, Eddie. And she could help Violet about the place. She wouldn’t be any trouble, I’m sure.’

‘Oh, you are, are you?’ His laugh was a brittle, humourless sound. ‘She wouldn’t be no trouble, you say? She’d never be anything but. She’ve been no trouble for the past ten years because she’ve been out of our sight. And as far as I’m concerned it can stay that way.’

‘Eddie – listen –’

‘No, you listen,’ he said. ‘She’ve come back because she’ve got nowhere else to go. Now she needs us; she needs us to look after ’er. Well, once there was a time when we needed ’er. And where was she then? She was nowhere to be seen. Where was she when our Lizzie and Iris were so lost without their mam that they didn’t know what to do with theirselves? Where was she when they cried for ’er each night? She was gone off with Pattison. Where was she when Lizzie got the sack? Where was she when Beatie needed her so?’ He swallowed, shook his head and went on angrily, ‘When her children needed her she was not to be found. Well, now the boot’s on the other foot. Whatever you do, our Abbie, is up to you, but I’m tellin’ you that I don’t want ’er back in my life, and that’s that.’ He got up from the table. ‘I’m ’appy enough as things are. I’ve done without a mother for the past ten years and I don’t need one now.’

‘You’d see her in the workhouse – is that it?’

He shrugged. ‘I won’t see ’er anywhere. It don’t matter to me where she goes. I just don’t care.’ He stood up, looked over to the stove and said to Violet, ‘We needs more coal in. I’ll go and get some.’ In another moment he had gone from the room.

‘How do you feel about it, Vi?’ Abbie asked, turning to her sister-in-law.

Violet shrugged, avoiding Abbie’s eyes. ‘It’s up to Eddie what ’appens,’ she said. ‘But if you wants the truth, I wouldn’t exactly jump at the idea of having your mother here with us. I know it’s hard on you, but – well, we’re ’appy as we are. Still – it’s up to Eddie. He makes the decisions.’ Another shrug. ‘Anyway, who knows? He might change his mind after a bit.’

‘No, he won’t do that. You know as well as I do that once Eddie’s mind is made up it’ll take the devil himself to make him budge.’

When Abbie returned to the schoolhouse she found her mother sitting at the window, waiting.

‘Did you see him?’ Mrs Morris asked.

Abbie nodded. ‘Yes, I saw him.’

‘He still doesn’t want to see me, does he?’

‘No, I’m afraid he doesn’t.’ Then Abbie added, not believing her own words, ‘But wait a while – he’ll come round.’

Her mother gave a sigh. ‘What’s to become of me, Abbie? I’ve got nowhere to go.’

‘You’ll stay with me, Mother, for the time being. There’s nothing else for it. We’ll manage.’

‘You were always a good girl.’ Her mother smiled now.

‘I won’t be any trouble to you, I swear I won’t.’

‘I’m sure of that.’

Mrs Morris reached out and briefly took Abbie’s hand. The unaccustomed physical contact made Abbie feel awkward.

‘I knew I could rely on you,’ her mother said. ‘You won’t see me out on the street, will you?’

‘Of course not.’

‘I won’t let you down, I promise.’ Mrs Morris released Abbie’s hand, paused, then added, ‘We’ll get on just fine, the two of us.’

‘Yes, I’m sure we shall.’

‘Oh, we shall indeed. You know, Abbie – you and me – we’re alike in many ways.’

That evening Abbie wrote to Arthur. She told him once again how much she had enjoyed her stay in London and thanked him for his kindness, not only to herself but to Jane. However, she said nothing of her mother’s return. She would tell him of that at a later time. And she would also have to solve the problem of where her mother would live once she had gone up to London. She sighed. No doubt it would all be sorted out in time.

The following morning she and her mother sat over breakfast, though Mrs Morris seemed to have little appetite.

‘Try to eat a little more, Mother,’ Abbie said. ‘You need to get your strength back.’

‘I will – in time. I’m just not that hungry right now.’ After a moment’s pause Mrs Morris asked, ‘Aren’t you curious to know what I’ve been doing all this time?’

‘Well – yes. But I reckoned you’d tell me when you felt like it.’

‘There isn’t a lot to tell.’ Her mother gave a short, staccato laugh. ‘And certainly it’s no tale of glory. But there, I don’t suppose you thought it would be.’ Abbie was silent. Her mother went on, ‘Jack Pattison and I – we went to London. He got work there, but it was nothing to speak of. We didn’t stay together long. The rows started and he soon got fed up and went running back to that mouse of a wife of his. So – I had to look after myself.’

‘You – you could have come home again,’ Abbie said.

‘Yes, I suppose I could. But there you are – I didn’t. For whatever reason, I stayed. I did various jobs and managed to keep myself, and then – then I met someone else.’

‘You mean another man?’

‘Yes.’

‘Who was he?’

Her mother was about to answer, but then checked herself. ‘What does it matter? What do their names matter? They’re all the same.’ She broke off to cough two or three times, then added, ‘Anyway, that lasted a few years, but eventually it ended. Then – I met someone else. Another man. And that lasted for a little time. But it came to an end too. It always does. You can’t put trust in men, Abbie. They always let you down in the end.’ After a pause she smiled and added, ‘You know, I was sure I’d come back to find you married. I’m glad to know you’ve got more sense.’

Abbie hesitated a second then said, ‘I
am
to be married, Mother. Come Easter.’ While her mother looked at her in surprise, Abbie continued, ‘His name is Arthur Gilmore. He lives in London.’

‘Well, I never. London, eh? So you’ll be leaving here.’

‘I’m going up to London to live.’

‘You didn’t tell me.’ There was a slight note of resentment in her mother’s tone. ‘So that means come Easter I’ll be out on the street again.’

‘No, of course not,’ Abbie said quickly. ‘We’ll get something worked out. You know very well I wouldn’t just go off and leave you with nowhere to live.’

‘It wouldn’t be the first time it’s been done.’

Abbie found the conversation depressing. She got up from the table and moved to the dresser. ‘I must get off to the post office,’ she said.

From a drawer she took the letter she had written to Arthur, then reached down from the top shelf the little tin in which she kept her household money. After transferring a little of the cash to her purse she replaced the tin, put on her coat and muffler, her bonnet and her mittens. Her mother remained silent at the table.

‘Now, don’t you go worrying yourself, Mother,’ Abbie said. ‘You’ll be all right, I promise.’ She moved to the door. ‘While I’m out I’ll get you something for your cough.’

As Abbie set out along the lane she thought back to her talk with Eddie. Perhaps his was the answer to the problem. He had spoken in bitterness, but perhaps the only thing was for her mother to go and stay with herself and Arthur in London after their marriage. But what would Arthur think of such an idea? His house was certainly big enough, and surely he wouldn’t see her mother abandoned. She had no doubt that her mother could be happy in such a situation; what Eddie had said was true – a fine home in London was what she had always wanted. Abbie let out a deep sigh, her breath clouding in the cold, crisp air. One thing was sure: their mother had no future with Eddie; whatever happened to her was in the hands of Abbie herself.

That evening, while Abbie worked at her knitting, her mother took up some of Abbie’s mending. A few minutes later, looking up over her needlework, Mrs Morris asked about Arthur. In reply Abbie told her how they had met, of the work he did and of his house in London.

A little silence followed, then her mother said hesitantly, ‘Abbie – d’you think that in his house there might be room for me too?’

‘Well – we’ll see,’ Abbie said with a smile. ‘I intend to talk to him about it.’

‘Well, if he’s as nice as you say he is I’m sure he wouldn’t want to see his wife’s mother end up in the workhouse, would he?’

‘You needn’t worry about that, Mother. That’s not going to happen.’

As her mother, with a little nod of satisfaction, went back to her mending, Abbie thought of the letter she must now write to Arthur. She would have to tell him of her mother’s return and put to him the question of whether she could have a home with them after their marriage. She must write tomorrow. Yes, and she must also write her letter of resignation; the spring term would begin soon and she would have to hand in her notice at that time. Glancing over at her mother she saw that her eyes were closed, the mending lying in her lap. Abbie got up, went to her and gently touched her shoulder. ‘Come on,’ she said as her mother opened her eyes. ‘It’s late. Time for us to get to bed. And you know what today is, don’t you?’

Mrs Morris frowned. ‘It must be the – oh, yes, it’s New Year’s Eve.’

Abbie nodded. ‘That’s right. Tomorrow it’s the start of 1873.’ She looked off into the unknown future. ‘I wonder what the new year will bring.’

Chapter Eighteen

Abbie had been up since six thirty. Now, glancing at the clock she saw that it was just after eight. All was quiet in the little schoolhouse. Her mother was still upstairs. Half an hour earlier Abbie had crept up and found her sleeping. Hopefully she would remain so for a while yet; it was what she needed.

Having finished her breakfast and washed the dishes, Abbie now sat at the kitchen table, trying to compose a letter to Arthur. Almost three weeks had passed since her return from London and the reappearance of her mother, and although she had written to Arthur several times she had not done so as frequently as before her trip. Neither had she yet made any mention of her mother’s return. She must, though; she would have to. She couldn’t keep putting it off.

When she had finished the draft of her letter she set down her pen and read it through. It would not do. With a sigh of frustration she tore up the page and added it to the other paper fragments on the table near her writing pad. Taking up her pen again she wrote
‘Dear Arthur’
and then set down her pen once more. After a minute she replaced the cap on the inkwell, gathered up the scraps of paper and dropped them into the fire. She moved to the window and looked out. The snow that had fallen two days before still clung frozen to the hedgerows and covered the verges beside the lane. Up above, the sky was a dull yellowish grey. Nothing moved and all was silent; not even the singing of a bird broke the quiet. Soon she would have to leave to begin her day’s work at the school.

Into the quiet came the sounds of movement overhead. Her mother was getting up. Abbie plumped up the cushion on the fireside chair, put another log into the fire and set the kettle on to boil. After a little while she heard the creaking of the stairs and a few moments later her mother came into the room. Abbie greeted her and watched as she moved to the chair and sat down. ‘Did you sleep well?’ she asked.

A nod. ‘Quite well, thank you.’

Abbie eyed her mother appraisingly. She did not look well; she was pale and there was a listlessness in her movements, though at the same time a strange restlessness, an edginess about her.

‘I’ll get you some breakfast,’ Abbie said.

Mrs Morris shook her head. ‘Nothing, thank you. I’m not really hungry.’

‘Mother,’ Abbie said, ‘you must eat or you’ll get sick.’

‘Please,’ her mother said with an irritable wave of her hand, ‘don’t fuss. I told you – I’m not hungry.’

Abbie insisted, however, and after some persuasion her mother ate a little porridge. Afterwards Abbie put on her coat; it was time to go to the school. ‘There’s plenty of wood and coal for the stove,’ she said, ‘so make sure you stay warm and keep the heat going under the stew.’ She picked up her bag and moved to the door. ‘I’ll pop back at half past twelve. Will you be all right while I’m gone?’

‘Yes, of course. Don’t worry about me; you go and get on with your work.’

Abbie observed again her mother’s lacklustre air. ‘I must remember to get you some more of that tonic,’ she said.

‘Those patent medicines,’ her mother said contemptuously. ‘They don’t do any good. Have you got such a thing as a little brandy? That might help me to pick up a little.’

Abbie nodded. ‘I’ll get you some.’

Abbie’s morning passed slowly, but at last it came to an end. Those children who had brought their midday dinners ate in the classroom and then, putting on their coats, went out into the yard to play. Abbie was now free for a little while. Leaving the school behind her, she set off in the direction of the Harp and Horses. As she hurried along the street she saw Mr Hilldew, the vicar, coming towards her. She returned his smile of greeting.

‘Miss Morris,’ he said. ‘And how are you this cold winter’s day?’

‘I’m very well, thank you, Reverend,’ Abbie replied.

There was a brief pause, then he said, ‘Miss Morris – I’ve heard that your mother has come back to Flaxdown.’

‘Yes,’ Abbie said, her heart sinking. ‘That’s correct, sir.’

‘And she’s staying with you at the schoolhouse, I believe.’

‘Yes, sir. I hope the School Board has no objection.’ She prepared herself for words of disapproval but to her surprise and relief they did not come.

‘No, there’s no objection,’ Mr Hilldew said, ‘certainly not on my part – just so long as nothing interferes with your work at the school.’

‘Oh, no,’ Abbie said quickly. ‘Nothing will interfere with that.’

‘Good, good. And how is your mother?’

Abbie sighed. ‘She could be better, sir. I hope, though, that she’ll soon begin to pick up again.’