A Mother's Courage (2 page)

Beth stirred again and opened her blue eyes, so
like her father's. She began to whimper and
Eloise scooped her up in her arms. 'Oh, my little
treasure, what am I going to do? How will we
manage on our own?' She sat down on the edge
of her bed and undid the buttons of her blouse,
putting the baby to her breast. 'We will go and
see your grandmama; she will know what to do.'

It had stopped raining, and Myrtle Street was
cloaked in darkness when Eloise finally left the
house with both children tucked up together in
the perambulator. It was bitterly cold and the air
smelt of soot with a hint of snow to come. Eloise
wrapped her muffler a little tighter around her
neck and she stepped out briskly, heading
towards City Road. The streets were quiet at this
time on a freezing January evening, and she was
able to pass unnoticed in the shadows between
the pools of flickering yellow gaslight. Her
breath curled like smoke around her face and
head, but the two children slept peacefully in the
warm cocoon of blankets in the perambulator.
Her heart ached as she looked down at their
innocent faces. How she would manage she did
not know. Ronnie had never saved a penny in his
life, nor had he thought to take out life insurance.
She would have to find work, and quickly too.
Mother would help. Mother would know exactly
what to do. Eloise quickened her pace, breathing
more easily as she saw the spire of her father's
church looming above the pall of smoke that
always hung over this part of the city.

There was light shining from the vicarage
windows and Eloise sighed with relief. She had
not stopped to wonder if her parents might be
out at a church meeting or a social; she had just
followed her instinct to fly home where she
knew she would be safe. She knocked on the
door, muffling the sound of the iron door
knocker with her hand lest it should wake the
babies. She listened for the sound of approaching
footsteps on the encaustic tiled floor and her
throat tightened with unshed tears when finally
the door opened and she saw her mother's
slender figure silhouetted against the gaslight in
the hall.

'Eloise! My darling girl. What brings you out
on a night like this? And with the babies too.'
Grace Monkham held the door open wide. 'Bring
them in out of the cold.'

Eloise pushed the perambulator into the porch
and collapsed in tears in her mother's arms.

Grace stroked her hair, holding her daughter
to her bosom. 'Oh, no, Ellie. It isn't - it can't
be . . .'

'Ronnie's dead, Mama. His sh-ship went
d-down with all hands in the Ch-China Sea.'

'What's wrong, Grace?' Jacob Monkham came
out of his study, holding a copy of
The Times
in
his hand. 'What's happened?'

Grace held up her hand. 'It's Ronnie. There's
been a terrible disaster at sea. Have we got any
medicinal brandy, Jacob?'

'I'll see if there is any in the chiffonier. Take her
into the parlour and sit her by the fire. She looks
perished.' Jacob disappeared into the dining
room on the far side of the hall.

'There, there, darling,' Grace murmured,
leading Eloise into the welcoming warmth of the
parlour. 'Sit by the fire and Papa will bring you
something to make you feel better.'

Eloise collapsed into the comfort of a red velvet
wingback chair by the fire, 'My babies,
Mama. It's too cold for them in the porch.'

'Don't worry, my dear. Janet will look after
them. It's you I'm more concerned with at the
moment.' Grace tugged at an embroidered bell
pull. 'Do you feel up to talking, Ellie?'

Eloise fished in her pocket for a handkerchief,
and realising that she had forgotten to bring one,
she looked to her mother. Without the need to be
asked, Grace took a clean square of white lawn
from her pocket and pressed it into Eloise's hand
with a rueful smile. 'In all your life, Eloise, I have
never known you to have a hanky when you
needed one. You were always like that even as a
child.'

Eloise blew her nose and was composing
herself to tell her mother everything when Janet,
the cook-general, put her head round the door.
She glanced at Eloise and her sandy eyebrows
shot up to her hairline. She cast a questioning
glance at Grace. 'What's up?'

Grace hurried over to her, lowering her voice.
'There's been a tragic loss at sea, Janet. Will you
take the babies upstairs and put them to bed in
Ellie's old room?'

Eloise attempted to raise herself from the chair
but her legs would not support her. She gulped
and sniffed. 'Mama, they cannot sleep in a
proper bed. They'll roll out and hurt themselves,
besides which I really ought to take them home.'

'Nonsense, I won't hear of it. This is still your
home, and you must stay for tonight at least. You
are in no fit state to be alone, darling.' Grace
motioned to Janet to go about her business. 'You
know what to do, don't you, Janet?'

'I should think I ought to, ma'am. Having
looked after you since you was a girl and Miss
Eloise since the day she was born, I think I can
still remember how to make up a bed for the little
ones in drawers from the chest.' Janet tossed her
head and her white mobcap wobbled dangerously
on top of her frizzy, pepper and salt curls.
'Leave it to me, Miss Eloise, and don't you fret.'

She bustled out of the room, passing Jacob in
the doorway. He carried a brandy bottle in one
hand and three small glasses in the other. He put
them down on an occasional table and poured
out three tots, handing one to Eloise and one to
his wife. He downed the third in one gulp. His
bushy white eyebrows knotted together over the
top of his aquiline nose. 'So there's no hope then,
Eloise?'

She sipped the brandy and the fiery spirit
caught her at the back of her throat, making her
cough. 'N-none at all, Papa. The
Hellebore
went
down in a t-typhoon with the loss of all h-hands.'
She mopped her eyes with the hanky. 'I'm sorry,
I c-can't stop crying.'

'I am sorry, my dear.' Jacob patted her
awkwardly on the shoulder. 'You know that I
didn't approve of your marriage to Ronald, but I
am grieved by your loss. However, in time I am
sure that . . .'

Grace laid her hand on his arm. 'Not now,
Jacob. Eloise does not need a sermon at this
moment in time.'

'I only meant to offer words of comfort, Grace.'

'Perhaps they will be more welcome tomorrow,
my dear, after the poor girl has had a good
night's sleep. Why don't you go back to reading
your newspaper and leave her to me.' Grace
reached up to kiss him on his whiskery cheek.

'Very well, but tomorrow I will offer up
prayers in church for the departed.'

Grace pushed him gently towards the doorway.
'Of course you will, dear. But right now I
think that Eloise's physical needs are more
important. I doubt if she's had supper, or if she's
had anything to eat at all today.'

His stern countenance melted just a fraction.
Trust you to be practical, Grace. I'll be in my
study if you need me.' He left the room, casting
an anxious glance at Eloise and shaking his head.
'Very sad, very sad indeed.'

'Now, darling,' Grace said gently. 'Everything
will be taken care of. Take off your boots and I'll
fetch a warm mustard bath for your feet, and
Janet will make you some supper when she's
seen to the children.'

'Thank you, Mama, but I couldn't eat a thing.'

'You must keep your strength up, if only for
the children's sake.' Grace paused with her hand
on the doorknob. 'I can only imagine how you
must be feeling at the moment, Ellie, darling. But
the pain will grow less in time, believe me.'

Eloise managed a weak smile. 'I expect you're
right, Mama. But part of me just refuses to
believe that Ronnie is gone forever.'

Grace's dark eyes filled with tears and her lips
trembled. She nodded her head and slipped
quickly out of the room.

For the rest of the evening, Eloise drifted
between disbelief and despair. She seemed to
have regressed into childhood again as Grace
and Janet fussed over her with tempting little
dishes of food, a hot mustard bath for her icy feet,
and a warm crocheted blanket to wrap around
her shoulders. The interior of the old vicarage
was slightly shabby and the furniture might not
be in the latest fashion, but it was a warm and
welcoming home filled with many memories,
most of them happy. When it was time for bed
Eloise was touched to find that Janet had
warmed the sheets with two stone hot water
bottles, and one of her mother's frilled lawn
nightdresses had been laid out on the satin
coverlet. A coal fire burned brightly in the grate,
making companionable crackling sounds, and
the air in the room was fragrant with the scent of
dried lavender.

Joss and Beth were sleeping peacefully in two
large drawers taken from the oak tallboy, and
Eloise leaned over to kiss their plump cheeks
before climbing into her old bed. She turned off
the gaslight and snuggled down beneath the
covers, watching the shadows on the walls
created by the flickering firelight. She could
smell her mother's scent in the fabric of the nightgown,
and the starched white sheets were as
smooth as glass. It was all so familiar and
comforting, but Eloise knew there was no going
back. She was not the young girl who had
dreamt of becoming a teacher, of love and
romance with a fairytale ending when she
married her prince. She was the widowed
mother of two very young children; she had a
home of her own and she must now make a life
for herself. She knew that she could rely on her
parents for help, although if the truth were told
she had always been a little scared of Papa,
whose mind seemed to be on a loftier plane than
that of ordinary secular folk. Eloise closed her
eyes, but she was certain that she would not
sleep a wink.

When the sound of a baby crying awakened
her, Eloise sat bolt upright in bed. At first she
could not remember where she was, and when
she recognised the room she could not think why
she was here. Then it all came flooding back to
her and it was not just the bitter chill of the
January night that made her shiver. Beth's cries
were becoming more insistent and Eloise swung
her legs over the edge of the bed, moving
carefully so as not to disturb Joss, and she lifted
Beth up in her arms. Wrapping her shawl around
her shoulders, she returned to the warmth of her
bed, where she sat propped up on pillows while
Beth suckled hungrily. Eloise closed her eyes,
comforted by the physical closeness of her baby
and the feeling of the small mouth tugging
insistently at her nipple. Whatever happened,
she would protect her children. Things might
look bleak now, in the small hours of the
morning, but she would find a way to support
both them and herself. If she could get some kind
of teaching post in the church school, perhaps
Mama and Janet would help look after the
children in the daytime. They could return home
to Myrtle Street at night, and she would not be
completely dependent on her parents. She would
talk it over with them in the morning.

Next morning at breakfast, Eloise broached the
subject but the reaction she received was far
different to the one she had anticipated. Mama
looked stricken and Papa pushed his plate of
buttered eggs and bacon to one side, barely
touched. He cleared his throat and rose from the
table, pacing the floor with his hands clasped
behind his back. 'This comes at a most unfortunate
time, Eloise.'

'I don't understand, Papa.'

Grace reached out to touch Eloise's hand.
'Your father has something to tell you, Ellie. We
weren't going to mention it yet. I mean, with
things as they are . . .' Her voice trailed off and
she cast a beseeching look at her husband. 'Jacob,
I think you ought to tell her exactly what you
plan to do.'

Eloise looked from one to the other and cold
fingers of fear clutched at her heart. 'What have
you to tell me? Please, just say it, Papa.'

Jacob came to a halt by his chair and he sat
down suddenly, as if his legs had given way
beneath him. 'There's no easy way to say this,
particularly at a time when you are not quite
yourself. But you must know that I have not been
particularly happy working here in London. I
didn't want to leave my parish in Dorset but I did
my duty and uprooted us all to come here to this
filthy, vice-ridden place.'

Grace frowned at him. 'Just tell her, Jacob.'

'Some time ago, Eloise, I applied to the
Missionary Society for a posting to Africa.

Nothing came of it for a while, and then I heard
recently that I had been accepted. To put it
briefly, in two weeks' time your mother and I are
leaving on a ship bound for Mombasa. We will
be gone for at least two years before we are
eligible for home leave, and it could be even
longer.' Jacob picked up his teacup and took a
mouthful of tea, which he swallowed convulsively.

'I have been called, Eloise. I have to go.'

Stunned and disbelieving, Eloise looked to her
mother for help. 'No, surely not. I can't believe
that you would both go so far away, especially
now.'

'My dear, I don't want to leave you, but I have
no choice.' Grace bowed her head and her fingers
plucked at the starched napkin lying on her lap.
'I have to go, my love.'

Eloise leapt to her feet. 'But I need you here,
Mama. You can't desert me.'

A broken sob escaped from Grace's lips. 'Oh,
Ellie. If only things were different.'

Jacob glared at Eloise, his brows lowered.
'That's enough, Eloise. Your mother must do her
duty and accompany me on my mission. I cannot
abandon my calling just because you have lost
your husband. I warned you against marrying
him, but you wouldn't listen to me. Now you
must live with the consequences of your foolish
liaison.'

'Papa!' Shocked by his violent tone, Eloise
could only stare at him in dismay. 'How can you
speak to me like that?'