No Wings to Fly (46 page)

‘I – I had to go to him, sir. He has no one else.’

‘He has no one else, eh?’ Another little nod. ‘Well, I must be frank with you, miss, and make it clear that I do not expect any governess in my employ to go running off to members of her family at the first sign of a headache. Her paramount duties are here – to her pupils – my children. Is that clear?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘That’s something that’s understood, then. I might also tell you that the choice between you and the other applicant was not the easiest one to make. She – a certain Miss Parry
from Marlborough – seemed ideal in many ways, and it was very little indeed that swung my decision in your favour. I think you should be aware of that.’

He stood looking at Lily with eyebrows raised, waiting for a response. After a moment she gave a brief nod and said, ‘Thank you, sir.’

‘Indeed. And I might inform you also that Wiltshire has no shortage of young women looking for the post of governess. As I told you, governesses are not thin on the ground, and a great many of those available are, I daresay, extremely well qualified.’

Lily said nothing to this. She knew well that it was only too true. All she could do was lower her glance from his cold, intimidating eyes. She felt wretched. It was the worst possible start to a period of employment that anyone could have imagined. She knew, too, with a greater sinking of her heart, that there was worse to come.

‘The children were anxious to see you,’ Mr Corelman continued, ‘but –’ here he broke off and said wearily, ‘Miss Clair, please have the good manners to look at me while I’m speaking to you. I have no intention of addressing myself to the top of your head.’

Obediently she forced herself to look him in the face. He paused for a moment, then resumed:

‘Yes – your seeing the children will have to wait for the time being. You’ll meet them in the morning – and I trust you won’t be up late. We’re early risers here.’

Her spirits and her courage plummeting even further, she began, ‘Sir – about tomorrow –’ but he, frowning deeply, broke in over her, saying:

‘Have you eaten, by the way? I hope you haven’t come at this hour expecting Cook to start preparing dinner just for you. That’s not the way we go on here. Where are your things? In the hall? You’ll have to take them up to your room yourself. Wait for someone else to do it for you and
you’ll wait for ever.’ He frowned even more deeply. ‘Well? Can I get an answer? You’ve got a tongue, I presume.’

Lily’s wretchedness was now so acute that she felt tears of humiliation stinging her eyes. She fought them back. ‘I – I haven’t got my things with me, sir. I left them at – ’

She got no further. ‘You haven’t got them with you? My dear Miss Clair – it
was
your understanding that you would begin your duties today, was it not?’

‘Yes, indeed, sir. What happened was that when I – ’

‘What’s happened, miss, is that you appear to have forgotten your obligations. How do you expect to be ready to meet your charges tomorrow morning when you – ’

Now she broke in, saying quickly, ‘I’m so sorry, sir, but I can’t be here in the morning.’

‘What do you mean, you can’t be here in the morning?’

‘I – I’ve got to go back to the infirmary. My brother’s expecting me.’

He stared at her, for a moment speechless, then said, ‘I don’t think you’re taking this seriously, miss. You have a duty here, or maybe you’ve forgotten that.’

‘I’m sorry, sir,’ she said, ‘but I have to go back to the infirmary at Grassinghill. I promised my brother. I can’t let him down.’

Mr Corelman stood before her with his eyes slightly narrowed, as if weighing her up. ‘You’ve got a choice, Miss Clair,’ he said. ‘I want you here tomorrow, up and about by seven at the very latest, helping my children with their dressing and bathing and then with their breakfast. You’ll be expected to serve them their porridge – though without sugar, no matter what they might request – and then get started with their lessons. If you’re not able to meet these simple demands, then we have nothing more to say to one another.’

Lily remained silent. He waited a moment, and then continued:

‘Miss Clair, my dinner is now cold. Do I get an answer or do I not? Are you going to be here in the morning?’

She hesitated for only a moment, then said, ‘No, sir. I’m very sorry, sir.’

He paused. ‘You won’t be here in the morning?’

‘No, sir. I’m so sorry, but I promised my brother that I would see him. I can’t let him down.’

‘You can’t?’

She said nothing.

‘You mean you won’t,’ he said.

She drew up her courage. ‘No, sir, I won’t.’

A momentary pause, then he said evenly, ‘Make your choice, Miss Clair – your obligation to this brother of yours, or your obligation to me and my family. And think carefully before you reply.’

‘I don’t need time to think,’ she said, steeling herself to hold his gaze. ‘My choice is already made.’ She half turned, bent to the sofa and took up her bag. As she straightened again, he said:

‘I don’t think you realise the gravity of your actions, Miss Clair. If you do as you state are your intentions you’ll never come to –’

She did not allow him to finish. ‘I absolutely realise the gravity of my actions, sir, and I realise also the gravity of my brother’s situation. He is lying in a workhouse infirmary having had his left hand and forearm amputated – and you speak to me of your children not having sugar with their porridge. I suggest you get in touch with your Miss Parry, sir, for I shall not be returning to this house.’ She did not hesitate a moment more, but turned and, her heart thudding, started to the door. ‘I’ll see myself out,’ she said.

At Rowanleigh, she wept as she told Miss Elsie of her visit to Tom, but her tears dried as she spoke in anger of her
meeting with Mr Corelman. Where he was concerned, her bridges were well and truly burnt, she knew, with the result that she was without employment.

It was gone ten o’clock. The two women were sitting in the drawing room, after Lily had picked at a late supper. The room’s French windows looked out over the rear lawn, above which the bats swooped in the night sky.

There was nothing for it, Miss Elsie said, but that she must study the classified advertisements again, and perhaps even place another one in the
Gazette
. It was only a pity, she added, that Lily’s first advert had brought no response. She knew nothing of the letter that Lily had in fact received, the letter from Mr Soameson of Happerfell.

Perhaps, though, Lily said to herself, the moment had come to reveal to Miss Elsie a little more. After a moment she heard herself say into the quiet:

‘But I
did
have a response to my classified . . .’

‘You did?’ Miss Elsie looked at her in surprise. ‘You didn’t mention it.’

‘It came on Friday.’ Lily took a breath. ‘It was from a certain Mr Soameson – in Happerfell.’ The words, heavy as lead, hung in the air between them. She could not look Miss Elsie in the face, for surely she would see there a recognition of the name.

Miss Elsie remained silent for a moment, then said, ‘And what did he offer – this Mr Soameson? Was it of interest to you?’

‘It was a temporary post only.’ Lily did her best to make her tone sound casual. ‘Just for a few months, until the new year.’

She was well aware that Miss Elsie had no idea that she even knew of Mr Soameson’s existence. Miss Elsie could have no inkling that Lily had seen the letter in the ledger, the letter telling her where her son had gone.

Outside, over the silhouetted branches of the rowan tree,
the bats continued to dip and swoop in their search for night-flying insects. Above the darkness of the tree the stars were shining. In the soft glow of the lamps Miss Elsie’s expression was unreadable. She said after a moment, ‘Well, I think you should put another ad in the paper. I’m sure that if you’re patient a little longer you’ll find something worthwhile,’ and added quickly, ‘without bothering to pursue the one in Happerfell.’

It was the kind of response Lily might have expected. She could guess what was going through Miss Elsie’s mind. Miss Elsie could not let it be known for a moment that she knew the significance of Mr Soameson’s name; never could she give away the part that he had played in Lily’s life. For Miss Elsie, the idea that Lily should be considering going to work in the household where her son now lived was unthinkable, a possible move that should at all costs be discouraged.

‘Yes,’ Lily said, ‘I must write to the gentleman and thank him, but send my regrets. I should have done so before this. I’ll do it tomorrow, and I’ll also put another advertisement in the
Gazette
. Something will turn up.’

Early the next morning she took the letter from the drawer of the chest, then drew up her chair to the small table by the window. As she had said to Miss Elsie, she would write to the gentleman and thank him for his interest, but tell him politely that the position he was offering was not for her. The paper was there, as were the envelopes and the pen and the ink – but the words would not come. After some minutes she put the letter back in the chest. He had said he would be away for two weeks; she would answer it later . . .

Over breakfast, the conversation at once turned to the matter of Lily’s trip back to the infirmary, and Miss Elsie asked her what Tom proposed to do once he had been discharged. Lily had no answer to the question, though she
had thought long and hard on the matter. Although he was a willing and conscientious worker, he had no special skills, and now, with his disability, even simple labouring work would be beyond him. He had no prospective future that she could foresee.

‘I’ve been giving it some thought,’ Miss Elsie said after a few moments. ‘The young man’s got to have somewhere to go when he leaves the infirmary. Well, there’s a little spare room – next to Mr Shad’s room – which he can have for a while. He’ll be able to make it comfortable, and he’s welcome to stay there for a few weeks till his injury is better healed. In return he can help Mr Shad about the place. It can’t be indefinitely, of course – but he’s welcome to stay for a while, to enable him to try to get things sorted out.’

Lily, feeling almost overwhelmed by the woman’s kindness, thanked her over and over. ‘I shall tell him this morning,’ she said.

When she left the house a little later, she carried in her basket some plums and sweet apples, a large piece of cheese, and a fruit cake baked the day before by Mary – all urged on her by Miss Elsie.

At the station Lily bought her ticket and went onto the platform in plenty of time for her train, but it did not arrive. Then, almost half an hour after it was due, the station master announced through a tinny-sounding loud-hailer that there had been a mishap up the line, and as a result the train had been cancelled. The next one, he said, would be the 9.50, calling at all stations to Redbury. Under her breath, Lily groaned. She would arrive at Grassinghill so late. Tom would surely think that she was not coming.

When, eventually, the train drew in she found a seat between a large, uniformed railway porter and an over-weight lady who sat with a caged parrot on her knees. Never had the speed of the train seemed so slow, never had it seemed to spend so long at all the many stations at which
it stopped, but at last, after a change at Corster, she found herself at Wilton Ferres. There she made her way onto the street and there joined the small group of people waiting for the coach to Grassinghill. She did not have long to wait, and was soon on board and rattling along on the rough, dusty road.

On her arrival at the infirmary she went straight inside. The clock over the corridor arch showed the time as a quarter past eleven and she sighed with disappointment and frustration. She and Tom would have so little time together. She strode on, and eventually came to the ward and pushed open the door. As on the previous day, there were numerous visitors at the patients’ bedsides, but she had eyes only for Tom, and at once her gaze sought and found him, down on the left side of the long room, sitting up in his bed. She went to him at once, and saw his eyes light up as he caught sight of her.

‘Tom – my dear!’ She clutched at his hand as he reached out for her, and bent and kissed his cheek. ‘I’m so sorry to be so late. Oh, I’m so sorry!’

‘I’d given you up,’ he said. ‘I thought you weren’t coming.’

‘There was no train,’ she said, ‘not for ages. I was in good time, but – but no train. I was feeling desperate.’

He managed a smile. ‘Anyway, you’re here now.’

‘Yes, I’m here – and I can come back to see you this afternoon.’

‘But visitin’ time’s not till three.’

‘That’s all right. I’ll find something to do. I’ll go and get myself a cup of tea or coffee. It won’t be for long.’ She held the basket up before her. ‘Anyway – look, I’ve brought you a few things: fruit – some nice apples and plums – and some cake and some cheese. Miss Elsie sent it.’

‘That’s very kind of her.’

‘Yes, well – that’s the way she is.’ There was a small tin
locker beside his bed, and she bent to it and opened the door. ‘I’ll put it in here, shall I?’

When she had put the things in the locker, she pulled the rickety old chair nearer to the bed and sat down and studied him. He looked somehow smaller. His left arm lay outside on the darned blanket, but the long sleeve of his nightshirt obscured any sight of bandages or flesh. The hollow cuff caused her breath to catch in her throat and she moved her glance away. On the wall above his head there was a stain, as if some dark liquid had been thrown. The striped ticking on his pillow, like the blanket, was darned in several places. Glancing down, she saw that there was a split in the linoleum near her feet.

Her glance moved back to Tom, and she gave him a smile. He did not smile back, but just looked gravely at her. ‘By the way,’ she said, taking up her bag and dipping in her hand, ‘I brought you a little more money.’

‘You gave me some yesterday,’ he said. ‘I don’t need any more.’

She counted out coins from her purse. ‘Tommo, it’s as well you have a little something,’ she said. She placed the coins on the locker. ‘Will that be all right there?’