The Favourite Child (28 page)

The young nurse flushed slightly and beckoned him forward. ‘I forgot to introduce my brother Tom and his daughters - my nieces - Sarah and Alice. ‘

‘I’m very pleased to meet you.’ Bella held out a hand which he gave a limp shake, still managing to scowl as if she’d offended him in some way. What a very unpleasant brother he must be, Bella thought, smiling as charmingly as she could. ‘We rarely have time to compare notes about family at the clinic. Are you visiting, or do you live close by?’

Before he had time to answer, Dr Syd explained that Tom was recently made a widower, therefore now shared a house with his sister.

‘That seemed the most sensible arrangement.’ Mary Shaw agreed.

Poor man, to be widowed so young. No wonder he looked so miserable. ‘I’m happy to have made your acquaintance.’ When he did not respond she turned back to Dr Syd and their previous topic. ‘As you say, Doctor Lisle is sure to cause even more trouble now. I swear I’ll swing for that man one day.’

‘We have to find some way to control him.’

‘Don’t worry. We’ll think of something. We always do.’ And waving to the two little girls, Bella went into the shop and switched her attention to boots. After that she bought a few items of groceries for Violet, waiting patiently as sugar was weighed into neat blue bags, the butter patted and the ox tongue carefully sliced and wrapped in greased proof paper. Having a few coppers change she bought some metal tokens for milk then treated herself to a toasted tea cake and a queen bun in a nearby cafe.

Feeling suitably fortified, Bella dropped her parcels off, brushing aside Violet’s thanks and made her way to Seedley Park Road to call upon her mother. The desire to see her was more out of a sense of duty than any real hope that she would help her cause, though there would be nothing lost by trying. She found Emily still in bed, still playing the invalid, the curtains still drawn against any threat of sunlight penetrating her sanctuary; the pallor of her skin indicating that the masquerade was probably doing more harm to her own health than her son’s love life.

Bella adopted a jovial tone. ‘And how are we today, Mother? Feeling a little better, I trust.’

Emily tightened her lips and muttered something about unfeeling daughters who neglect their parents.

‘You should really get about more. It’s glorious out, a golden autumn day. It would do you no end of good. Would you like me to enquire about an invalid carriage for you, then I could push you about?’

‘I wouldn’t be seen dead out with you. Not after the way you’ve brought shame upon us all.’ She made this announcement in crisp, sharp tones with not a sign of stumbling or hesitation.

‘Indeed, I am sorry to have caused you and Pa any distress but there it is. One must do what seems right.’ Bella sat by the big brass bed for the better part of an hour and spoke about her work, describing the trials and tribulations of her various clients, the valiant efforts of Dr Syd and Nurse Shaw, their battles with the church and the more conservative members in the medical profession as well as the constant quest for money. Apart from an acid comment about women behaving with more decorum in her day, Emily sat stony-faced throughout, saying nothing. ‘I don’t suppose you’d be prepared to make a small donation, Mother, for the sake of women less fortunate than yourself?’ Bella finished.

Emily would not.

‘What about me, your erring daughter? My own savings are getting desperately low though I’m trying, so far with little success, to find decent employment. And I really should find some place of my own to rent. I can’t prevail upon Violet’s hospitality indefinitely. I don’t suppose you’d...’

‘Never!’ Emily interrupted.

Sighing, Bella kissed the flaccid cheek, announced her intention of paying a brief call in the kitchen before returning home, and left the room with a profound sense of relief. Mrs Dyson and Tilly’s welcome at least was warm and genuine. They sat Bella at the table, plied her with tea and gossip as they had used to do, and then listened avidly to her tale.

‘How’s Pa?’ Bella gently enquired when she’d run out of news, more concerned to hear the answer to this tentative question than she cared to admit.

Mrs Dyson shook her head, pursing her mouth in that particular way she had when she didn’t much care for what she was about to say. ‘Not the gentleman he was, that’s for sure. Hit him hard, it did, you leaving home like that. ‘

‘And whose fault was that?’

‘Aye, well, that’s not for me to judge but I don’t know where he would’ve been without that young lass to comfort him. He’s at least warmed to her, for all him and Mister Edward are still at daggers drawn.’

‘So he is still in favour of their marrying?’

‘Oh aye, but he keeps his feelings on the subject close to his chest, as it were, since your ma is no nearer to accepting it and shows no sign of improvement. That too is a great source of sadness to him.’

‘I could flatten her, I really could, for putting him through such misery,’ Bella burst out and then flushed at their surprised expressions which clearly condemned this show of open hostility.

‘The poor lady can’t help what God has cast upon her.’

‘No, no, of course she can’t,’ Bella hastily put in and wondered again about the wisdom of keeping her counsel over Emily’s charade.

As she was leaving, Mrs Dyson tucked a home-made pork pie into a brown paper bag for her, handing it over with a broad wink. ‘They’ll never miss it. I can’t give you any money for your scheme, love, but it’s just to let you know not everyone’s against you in this house.’

It was as she crossed the hall that the front door opened and Simeon himself walked in. Bella was shocked. Her father seemed thinner, his face almost haggard, his eyes bleak and unfocused, at least until they lighted upon her and then the familiar blaze of anger lit their hazel depths and all colour drained from his usually ruddy cheeks.

‘So, it’s you.’

‘I’ve been visiting Mother.’

‘So you should.’

‘She seems - about the same.’

‘Aye. Nowt’s changed round here.’

‘No. I don’t suppose it has.’

Having made this pronouncement he strode past her into his study and slammed shut the door.

‘He seemed so unfriendly Violet. Like a stranger to me.’

‘He’s hurting, lass. That’s all it is. He’s wanting thee to beg his forgiveness and be his little girl again.’ Violet comfortably disposed her rolls of flesh in the battered fireside chair, and settling the basin of potatoes between her fat knees began to pare away long strands of peel with a sharp knife.

Bella, sitting hunched on the three-legged stool beside her, fought down the rush of emotion that rose in her throat and frowned. ‘But I’m not his little girl any more and I couldn’t possibly go back home. There’d be nothing but friction and squabbling from morning till night, not to mention Mother’s silent condemnation. According to Edward, who at least comes to see me regularly, Father is apparently on first name terms now with Dr Lisle. It’s Nathaniel thinks this, Nathaniel thinks that. Dreadful little man. They seem to have adopted a stance of comrades-in-arms and much good may it do the pair of them.’

‘Thee should have landed that doctor a fourpenny one, right in his wedding tackle,’ Violet remarked in her droll way. ‘That’d’ve cooled his ardour right enough.’

Bella giggled. ‘I dare say it would. Well, they may win one or two battles but I’ll win the war, right?’

Violet made no comment to this but continued to peel potatoes and, without glancing in Bella’s direction idly remarked, ‘I were wondering about you and our Dan. Whether it were all off like.’

‘All off?’

‘Aye. I thowt you two had clicked. Our Dan certainly thinks well of thee, lass. I were right sure thee’d be getting spliced. What’s gone wrong? Has it turned into cold porridge? Or is it that shoes haven’t come and clogs won’t do.’

Bella took a moment to interpret Violet’s picturesque philosophies and then shook her head. ‘No, it’s nothing to do with class. I’m not looking for anyone grand so clogs would do well enough. But cold porridge!’ She pulled a face. ‘Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps it has gone off the boil a bit, though it would be fairer to say that it never reached the boil. What do you think I should do about it, Violet?’ She glanced appealingly at the older woman, waiting anxiously for her response.

‘Don’t try to warm porridge up. It’s never t’same.’ Then pausing, the knife firmly held between fingers and thumb, she looked directly into Bella’s eyes and said, ‘Bide thee time. Thee might find that what seems like a tastier dish leaves a nasty taste in yer mouth, then mebbe thee could fettle a new one with my lad and bubble it up nicely. ‘Thee never knows, eh?’ And she placidly continued peeling potatoes.

Bella sat stunned, astonished at how astute Violet was with her homespun wisdom. Had she guessed about her secret passion for Billy Quinn and how it shamed her to admit it, even to herself? Or was she simply on a fishing expedition, hoping to get to the bottom of whatever troubled her lodger? Bella decided it might be prudent to change the subject and hurried on to explain her concern over the way she was imposing on the good nature of the Howarth family by not finding a job or a place of her own to rent. ‘I really must do something about that.’

‘I reckon you’re busy enough, what with all that clinic work thee’s doing. How would thee have time for owt else?’

Bella admitted that this was a problem, one that needed to be resolved,. ‘Perhaps I could find a part time job, serving on the market or something.’

Violet roared with laughter. ‘Eeh, I can just see thee weighing out tripe, or slicing up black puddings with them dainty fingers of yours. Nay, I don’t mean to mock, lass,
 
and thee must do what thee thinks right but don’t traipse about all day looking’ fer work round ‘ere because tha’d be wasting thee time. There aren’t so many jobs about these days and it’s getting worse, no matter what them in government might say.’

Finding work in Salford was indeed proving difficult, if not impossible, and after two more weeks of ‘traipsing about’ as Violet called it, Bella cast her net wider afield and found a part time job in Kendal Milne on Deansgate, on the glove counter. The hours were long but they were willing for her to work a three-day week: Wednesdays, Fridays, and of course Saturdays, their busiest day. This left her sufficient time for the clinic and, for all she had a long journey to work on the tram every day, it would be a great relief to have some money in her pocket and be able to pay her way in the household.

Violet said little but was clearly relieved, Bella could tell. Unfortunately, the job meant that she would have less time for her home visits. But then, you couldn’t have everything.

Jinnie’s Draw Club was experiencing severe difficulties. After a euphoric start with Mrs Blundell, still apparently on a lucky streak, winning the first week’s draw, by the fifth week interest was beginning to wane, except by those still waiting for their number to come up. This was, of course, exactly as Jinnie had predicted. Persuading the winners to continue to stump up sixpence every week became increasingly difficult as time went by, sometimes impossible when they rightly claimed they had no money. Jinnie tried to be understanding but since Quinn gave her no quarter, she couldn’t be too sympathetic to their plight.

‘But you can’t have spent it all,’ she’d say. ‘What’ve done you with it?’

‘Ate regular. Bought some clogs for our Cissie and a shirt for our Bob. What d’you think I spent it on, a bloody cruise?’ would come the swift rejoinder. Rarely had the money been frittered away, but even used wisely it left the woman concerned with a debt she somehow had to repay and she’d do her best to gain extra time to settle it. Which didn’t figure in Quinn’s scheme of things.

‘Stand no nonsense,’ he kept repeating, as Jinnie handed over the regular weekly interest which he insisted upon, whether her clients had paid up or not. He never had any suggestions on how she could force money out of them that they did not possess.