Never Look Back (13 page)

Later, after the delicious beef and oyster pie, Lucas went out to work in his boat again, and Dolly spoke of how she felt about him as she and Matilda sat by the stove.

‘He’s everything I ever wanted,’ she said, her small face looking dreamy and young. She had unusually good teeth for a woman of her age, small, white and even with none missing, and now she was wearing a frilly mob-cap with her grey hair hidden she could pass for ten years younger. ‘It’s funny how things turn out sometimes. When I was a young girl I dreamed of falling in love with a rich, handsome man who would rescue me from being poor. I was very poor too,’ she laughed, seeing Matilda’s look of surprise. ‘Much worse off than you were, lovey. I tell you, there was ten of us all living in what weren’t much more than a stable, and the animals shared it at night too. At ten I was sent to work in the laundry of a big house nearby and if it hadn’t been for seeing how rich people lived I expect I would have ended up with a life just like my mother’s.

‘Well, like I said, I kept dreaming of this rich man who would save me, and I suppose that’s just what Mr Jacobs did, though he weren’t handsome or rich and I never fell in love with him. He came to the house once when they were having this big party, he made lovely cakes and pastries, you see. I reckon it was his baking that attracted me, I always was a greedy little sod. Well, we chatted a bit, I found out he made a good living selling his cakes and stuff to the gentry for their parties, and he must have taken a shine to me right off, because he said he needed an assistant.’

‘Was he English?’ Matilda interrupted. Dolly didn’t draw breath once she got started.

‘Born here, but his folks were Austrian Jews,’ she said. ‘They were pastry-makers too. Anyway, that’s how it started. I went to work for him, and when he tried the funny business on I said he’d have to marry me first.’

Matilda’s eyes opened wide with surprise. She hadn’t expected something so cool and calculated of Dolly. ‘Well, he was no oil
painting,’ Dolly chuckled, and her double chin wobbled. ‘Small, scrawny, with a beaky nose and not much hair. He was already thirty then.’

‘And how old were you?’

‘Sixteen,’ she said and grinned. ‘Don’t get me wrong, Matty. I was fond of him. I admired his skill at baking and he was a kind, decent man. So I married him. Good job I did, or I wouldn’t be sitting here now in this nice cottage with a bit of security behind me. But I earned it. I worked eighteen hours a day once he got the shop in Cheapside.’

‘You didn’t love him though?’

‘Not like in a romantic way,’ the older woman smiled. ‘We were good friends, and we were snug together. He taught me all I know including how to read and write. I missed him too when he passed on. But there were times I regretted not marrying a man I felt some passion for, and that I never had the luck to bear any children. Oh heavens! I am running on! I didn’t mean to give you me life story. What I started out to say was that when Mr Jacobs died I thought that was me finished an’ all. I’d lost my looks and I thought I was much too old to even hope of happiness with another man. Then along came Lucas, with his lovely blue eyes, and my heart went all fluttery.’

Matilda wasn’t sure she liked to be told Dolly felt passionate towards her father. It didn’t seem quite proper.

‘I’m glad for you both,’ she managed to get out.

Dolly laughed. ‘I’ve made you blush, that’s bad of me, but I wanted you to know how it is for us. I think you and me are very alike, Matty, sort of direct, ’cept you don’t talk so much! You speak so nice, you’ve got nice manners, and I know from yer father it’s none of his doing. I managed to pick up me airs and graces along the way, an’ all, I certainly weren’t born with ’em. Don’t you go marrying a man just for his money though! Try and fall for someone who’s got some by all means, even true love can fly out the window when you’re hungry. But don’t just look at the money, make sure he’s kind and he makes you laugh.’

By the time Matilda was ready to leave with her father the following afternoon, she found she could hug Dolly spontaneously. She was a real treasure, kind, generous and so very lovable. Her personality filled the little cottage, her laughter and
chatter was like being wrapped in a warm blanket. To see the woman tenderly buttoning Lucas’s coat for him and tying a warm muffler round his neck before he went out brought a lump to Matilda’s throat. It was touching to see how she valued the little things he did for her too, like making her an early cup of tea or putting the ashes from the stove on to the path outside to make it less slippery for her.

Matilda felt she could go to America now with a happy heart. Dolly and Lucas would grow old together, treasuring what they had together because both of them knew what it was to live without it.

‘Make the wedding at the beginning of April,’ Matilda urged Dolly as she took her leave at the door. Although it was only half past three it was already nearly dark, and biting cold. Dolly had given her the coat she promised, it was dark blue serge with a rabbit collar, but although it was very much warmer than her shawl, by the time they got to Chelsea she’d probably be frozen stiff. ‘And will you try and get George to come too?’

‘I will,’ Dolly replied, flinging her arms around her and enveloping Matilda in a smell of lavender. ‘It will only be a quiet affair, just us and a few friends I’ve made along here. But just you remember this is your home too. If you change your mind about America, you can come here. Now go, before you make me cry.’

‘So what do you reckon on Dolly?’ Lucas said as they got to midstream. He had to shout as the wind was strong and blowing his words away.

‘She’s just perfect for you,’ Matilda replied, pulling one of his rugs around her. ‘I think as Reverend Milson would say you ought to get down on your knees and thank the good Lord.’

‘I ’ave, Matty. I’ave,’ he said, his face breaking into the broadest smile. ‘All I wish was that I met up with ’er when yer mum died instead of Peggie.’

‘You once told me “Never dally with a grievin’ man”,’ Matilda said, quick as a flash. ‘So I’m glad you didn’t meet her then, however much I would have liked her as a mother.’

‘That’s true,’ he chuckled. ‘Glad you remember your old man’s pearls of wisdom.’

*

Three months later, in mid-April, Matilda was in the guest bedroom at the parsonage with Lily, trying to get the huge leather cabin trunk closed. She put her whole weight on it but the lock and catch stayed stubbornly two inches apart. ‘It’s not going to shut, Madam,’ she said wearily. ‘There’s too much in it.’

Lily put down the evening dress she was folding on the bed alongside other clothes and linen she wanted to take, and added her weight to the lid, but it made no difference. It still wouldn’t close.

‘We’ll have to take out that blue counterpane,’ she sighed. ‘I don’t suppose we’ll need that immediately, so maybe it can go in with the things to follow us.’ She slumped down on to the bed and covered her face with her hands. ‘Oh Matty, I’m so sick of all this!’ she wailed.

Matilda was very tempted to tell the woman to buck up and stop feeling sorry for herself. At Christmas she had seemed happy enough at going, but since then she’d gradually worked herself up into a lather of anxiety about it. Every day she seemed to find some new complaint or worry, refusing even to try to look on the bright side. She seemed to imagine that the whole of America was a wasteland where people lived in shacks without any comforts or even shops to buy things. She wanted to take absolutely everything she and her husband owned, not just clothes, books, bed linen and china, but dozens of lengths of material to make clothes for the future too. So far the trunk had been packed and unpacked six times.

Yet Matilda did feel some sympathy – her mistress was settled here in Primrose Hill and she loved the parsonage. Her husband had arranged it all with little thought for her feelings, fears for her daughter, or the long sea voyage, and Lily was now close to breaking down from sheer panic.

Matilda flung back the lid of the trunk and lifted a few things out, putting them on the bed. ‘I’ll do it,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you go and lie down for a while, you look so tired.’

Lily hesitated. She wasn’t just tired but completely exhausted. She hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in months for worrying about what lay ahead and Giles just didn’t seem to care that she was distraught. Matilda was the only person who appeared to understand how she felt and she wanted to voice her appreciation.

It was so very ironic that this girl whom she had initially feared should become so invaluable to her. She worked so tirelessly and cheerfully, not just at the jobs she was employed to do, but instinctively turning her hand to anything that was needed. In truth Lily knew she was far more than a nursemaid – adviser, companion, friend and family member now She didn’t know how she would have got through these past few weeks without her help.

‘I can’t leave it all to you,’ she said in a small voice. ‘You’ve done so much already.’

Matilda was touched by the gratitude in the woman’s voice. She had thought all the extra washing, ironing and mending she’d done recently had gone unnoticed. ‘There’s not so much left to do now,’ she said with an encouraging smile. ‘You go and lie down. It’s nearly time to get Tabby up from her nap. I’ll take her out for a little walk so it’s nice and quiet for you.’

‘You are a good, kind girl, Matty.’ Lily impulsively reached out and touched the girl’s arm. ‘I’m so very glad you are coming with us.’ She turned and hurried away then, leaving Matilda bug-eyed with amazement.

In three days they would be taking the stage-coach to Bristol so that the Milsons could say goodbye to their respective families, then a week later they would be taking a ship from the port there. Matilda hoped that once they were on their way Lily would cheer up and perhaps even start to enjoy the adventure of the trip.

Yet despite the apparent enthusiasm Matilda was displaying to everyone, she had her own private fears and doubts. Last week while over in Barnes for the wedding, she’d almost been tempted to stay there for good. Dolly could do with a waitress for the summer, and to see that riverside garden bright with daffodils, cherry blossom and the weeping willows with their new pale green leaves unfurling made America much less appealing.

But she steeled herself against backing down by reminding herself that Tabitha needed her and it was the chance of a lifetime. At least she had the memory of that lovely wedding tucked away in her heart. Of Dolly in a pale lemon dress with a matching hat, and her father in a borrowed frock-coat. And little George! It
had been so good to be with him again, and such a shock to see him in long breeches and a boiled shirt, his red hair neatly cut. He was quite the little man, talking about his work on the wagon delivering goods, grooming the horses and how much he liked Mr Gore the carter and his wife. Getting away from Luke was the best thing that ever happened to him. Now he had a chance of growing up as honest and decent as his father.

‘Can we go up to the top of the world?’ Tabitha asked as they left the house for the afternoon walk. It had been raining that morning, but now the sun had come out and the air smelled clean and fresh.

Matilda giggled. That was Tabitha’s name for the top of Primrose Hill, in her innocence she thought that the view from there was of the entire world.

‘We’ll go just as long as you don’t ask to be carried on the way back,’ she replied.

In a year Tabitha had gone from a merry, waddling baby to a somewhat serious little girl. Her baby fat had disappeared, leaving her a little too thin, and aside from the melting brown eyes she’d inherited from her father, every other feature was turning into a copy of her mother’s. Her once button-like nose had grown a little sharp, even her dark hair which had once curled so readily now had to be coaxed with rags or it just hung limply. Aggie had recently, and rather unkindly, pointed out she wasn’t going to be the beauty her parents anticipated, but plain or pretty, Matilda adored her. She was so quick, she questioned everything, and even at only three and a half she had a mind of her own.

‘Why is Mama lying down again?’ Tabitha asked, frowning as she looked up at Matilda.

She spoke just like an adult now, yet a year ago she couldn’t manage more than a few words.

‘Because she’s tired,’ Matilda said with a smile. ‘Getting ready to move across the ocean is very tiring work, my little lady.’

‘But you and Aggie do all the work,’ Tabitha said pointedly. ‘Mama doesn’t do anything much, and she’s always crying.’

That was a very astute comment for someone so young but Matilda knew she must be careful how she replied to it, as Tabitha was prone to repeating things.

‘Well, Aggie and I are servants,’ she said in an even tone. ‘That means we are paid to do work for your mama, but even if she isn’t cleaning or cooking she still has a great many other things to do. And if she cries sometimes it’s just because she’s sad to be leaving England.’

‘But why? We’ll all be there with her,’ Tabitha said. ‘’Cept Aggie. Why can’t she come too?’

‘Because Aggie has a family of her own, and besides, she has to look after the new parson and his wife when we’ve gone,’ Matilda said. To her mind the sooner Lily got away from Aggie and her alarmist views that America was a dangerous place full of savages and convicts, the happier her mistress would be. ‘I expect we’ll have a new housekeeper when we get to New York. It will be better to have an American woman anyway because she’ll be able to tell us things about the place so we can find our way around.’

Tabitha said nothing more until they reached the top of Primrose Hill. They stopped as always to look at the view. For weeks now the city had been shrouded in fog, and on walks up here they’d been unable to see beyond a few hundred yards. But today’s good weather meant they could see almost to infinity.

Matilda silently drank it all in, the green of Regent’s Park at the bottom of the hill, the elegant church spires dotted all over the city, the silver glint of the Thames, and the huddled masses of houses, shops and businesses in between. She had walked most of the area within her view selling her flowers, envied those who lived in the grand houses, and pitied those poor souls who lived on the streets without any shelter. It was only now that she was leaving London, perhaps never to return, that she realized how deeply it was engraved on her heart and how much the people she was leaving behind meant to her.