The Innkeeper's Daughter (26 page)

Alice made a pot of tea and the four of them ate a light lunch of beef and ham left over from the morning. Then, as one, they rose from the table to clear the saloon and prepare for the evening opening.

‘Where’s Carter?’ Sarah asked Joe.

‘Dunno. I thought he was here helping to clear up.’

‘He was clearing ’tables in ’saloon when I last saw him,’ Alice volunteered. ‘When I came in with Nell’s letter,’ she added.

But he wasn’t there when they returned to the room, and although the tables were cleared they weren’t wiped down and the dirty glasses were still in the sink behind the counter.

‘I’ll wash up,’ Alice volunteered, and Joe, surprisingly, said he would help her, when normally he shied from that particular job. Bella gave a little smile and wondered if it was because of Alice that Joe was offering.

When their mother had disappeared into the kitchen and Alice had gone to get more clean cloths and towels, Bella leaned on the counter and whispered, ‘What did you really see, Joe? Did you see Nell?’

He hesitated for a moment. ‘I wasn’t sure,’ he said in a low voice. ‘There was a crush of folk like I said, and then I saw somebody who looked like our Nell. She turned round and looked straight at me, then she put her foot on ’step and her hand on ’rail and disappeared on to ’train. I could’ve run after her, but I thought – who am I to dictate to her? If that’s what she wants to do, should I stop her? She’ll come back home if she doesn’t like ’theatre life, just like William will, except he’s tied to ’army for a long time.’

Bella nodded silently. If only she had been so brave, who knew what she might be doing now? A lump came into her throat. Would she have been any happier doing what she wanted and not giving consideration to anyone else, particularly her father and mother? No, she thought, she knew that she wouldn’t. Her conscience would have troubled her.

‘And do you know,’ Joe went on, ‘coming back down Paragon Street I swear I saw somebody I knew and for ’life of me I can’t think who it is.’

‘You don’t know anybody in Hull.’ Bella picked up a duster to polish the tables again, her thoughts still on Nell. ‘You must have imagined it.’

They found Carter eventually. He was sprawled on the cellar floor as drunk as a lord with ale from the tap on a cask dripping over him.

‘Get him out,’ Sarah told Joe. ‘We’ll have no drunks here.’

Joe looked scared and his face was pale as he hauled Carter up the steps with Bella holding his feet. Together they took him out of the side door and into the street.

‘Where can we put him?’ Bella asked. ‘We can’t leave him outside ’Maritime. It looks bad.’

‘We’ll tek him to ’end of ’street,’ Joe said. ‘Then he could’ve been drinking anywhere.’

There were not many people about in Anne Street, so they propped Carter up against a corner of a wall. There were a few curious glances from passers-by and a lone dog that came to sniff at him, but they sauntered back as if the drunk was nothing to do with them.

When they reached the side alley of the Maritime, Joe said, ‘Hang on a minute, will you, Bella?’

‘What?’ she said. ‘What for?’

He put his hands to his face and rubbed his cheeks, which were still pale. ‘I’m so scared,’ he told her. ‘What if I finish up like him?’

‘But – you haven’t been drinking,’ she said. ‘Aren’t you over that?’

Miserably Joe shook his head. ‘No,’ he muttered. ‘I’m not. It’s like Carter said. If ’ale’s not there I’m all right and while ’cellar’s been empty I’ve been all right, but now I know it’s not I’m going to be tempted again. It’s as if ’devil’s got inside me – and I want it. I’m desperate for a drink, Bella, and I don’t know what to do. How can I be a publican and not tek
a
drink? Cos I know if I have one, then I’ll want another and then another after that.’

Bella gazed at him and saw how shaken he was; there were tears in his eyes and he could barely meet her gaze.

‘We’ll work something out, Joe,’ she said. ‘But you’ll have to be strong and help yourself too. You need to find something else that’s more important to you than drink.’

He lifted his head, and said, ‘Do you think so?’ And when she said yes she did, he murmured, ‘I think there might be, but it’s too early to say yet and it might not be a cure.’

She put her arm through his as they walked down the side entrance, and said softly, ‘When you’re ready to tell me, Joe, then I’ll help you to find that something else, whatever it is.’

A ghost of a smile touched his mouth and she saw the old Joe, the one she knew best, and he nodded and stood aside to let her enter first. ‘Hey, Bella,’ he said suddenly. ‘You know when I went to find Nell earlier an’ I said I’d seen somebody who looked familiar and you said I didn’t know anybody in Hull?’

There was a watered-down cockiness in his voice, a trace of the self-assured person that he usually was as he grinned at her. ‘I’ve just remembered who it was! It was his fancy coat and hat that made me look twice at him, but when I last saw him he didn’t have sideburns; in fact he was not much more’n a schoolboy.’

Bella frowned. Who was he talking about?

‘Don’t you know who I mean? Fickleness o’ women,’ he bantered. ‘You’ve forgotten about him, haven’t you? It was that young feller I used to rag you about. What was his name – a gentleman farmer’s son?’

‘Jamie,’ she said softly. ‘Jamie Lucan. And no, I hadn’t forgotten about him; but he’s probably forgotten about me.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

JAMIE LUCAN HAD
been standing in a doorway, Joe had said. And he’d looked a bit lost. What was he doing in Hull, Bella wondered as she slipped out to fetch Henry from school, if indeed it was Jamie Lucan. Joe hadn’t seen him in a long time; it could have been anybody.

Bella pushed Jamie to the back of her mind; she was more concerned about Joe and his drinking. She’d have to stay with him, tail him, which he would hate, watch him to be sure he didn’t drink with the customers, for they’d be sure to offer him a drink whilst they were having one.

‘Have a tankard of lemonade to hand behind the counter,’ she’d suggested. ‘Then no one will see what you’re drinking, and you can say—’

Joe nodded and simulated lifting a tankard. ‘I’ve got one at ’minute, squire, thanks all ’same.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Something like that.’

Henry was eager to tell Bella all he had learned at school and how pleased his teacher had been that he could already read and do some numbers. She was relieved that he didn’t mention that he’d been teased about his lameness, which she had worried about. Henry, she decided, was more resilient than she gave him credit for. When they reached the Maritime again and he had repeated to his mother and Joe and Alice all that he had told Bella, Sarah gave him an early supper and told Bella to take him up to bed as he seemed tired out.

Bella tucked him up in bed and began to read him a story, but before she was through the first page he murmured sleepily, ‘My bone hurts, Bella,’ and then fell asleep.

His bone? What does he mean, she wondered? Does he mean his lame leg? He’s probably been playing with the other children and got tired, whereas when he’s at home more often than not he’s reading or drawing. We should have a word with his teacher, she thought, and make sure he’s not overdoing things. But when she told her mother, Sarah shook her head and told her she worried too much over Henry.

Their first evening at the Maritime was a roaring success and they were all kept busy, Joe and Bella serving behind the counter, Alice clearing glasses and washing them, and Sarah waiting on the tables with jugs of ale; the free food she had provided disappeared immediately, and although Sarah couldn’t forget her young daughter out on the road to who knew where, she had to push those thoughts to the back of her mind.

When they finally saw the last customers out and closed the doors, it was after ten o’clock. Joe went to lock the side door and found Carter sitting on the doorstep.

‘Sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘If I say it won’t happen again, can I come back?’

Joe hesitated. In a way, he needed to see Carter to remind himself that he might end up like him if he took to the drink, but as he was steeling himself to refuse him he heard his mother’s voice behind him.

‘He’s banned,’ she cried, and then, ‘wait.’ She disappeared into the saloon, returning a moment later with money in her hand. ‘Here,’ she said to Joe. ‘Give him his wages. I’ll not begrudge him ’time he’s put in helping us and he was very useful, but I’ll not have a drunk working here, do you hear me?’

‘Yes, Ma.’ Joe’s voice was low. ‘I hear you.’

‘Thing is,’ Sarah said later as they cleared up and were putting the saloon to rights once more, ‘when we were at
’Woodman,
we knew all our customers and they knew us and we never had any trouble. This place is different; customers have a lot o’ choice in Hull. There’s any amount of hostelries and public houses for them to choose from and we mustn’t think that every night is going to be as busy as tonight’s been. Folks have come to tek a look at us an’ tek our measure, and if we want to mek this a decent place where customers feel comfortable, then we don’t want folk like Carter here who can’t hold their drink.’

Joe opened his mouth to say something but his mother had found her voice and her confidence, and continued. ‘A bit o’ merry-making and one or two drinks ower ’top is all right, I’m not saying it isn’t, but I think he’s got a serious problem.’

‘I’m sure you’re right, Ma,’ Bella chipped in. ‘It’s a pity cos he was very helpful to begin with—’

‘My da has a drink problem,’ Alice interrupted quietly. ‘That’s why Ma never has any money. He runs up a slate at ’hostelry near ’farm where he works. He never went to ’Woodman, cos he knew that Mr Thorp wouldn’t let him put owt on ’slate, and so hardly anybody in ’village knows about it; they just think that Ma’s a bad manager.’

‘Poor lass,’ Sarah said with feeling. ‘I allus knew she was struggling, but didn’t know why.’

Alice nodded and they saw her lips tremble, but she didn’t say anything more for a moment until she added, ‘I wish I could see her, or at least write to her. But I’m not much good at writing or spelling.’

‘Our Bella’ll write for you, won’t you, Bella?’ Joe asked. ‘She’s got a way wi’ words has our Bella.’

‘She has,’ Sarah agreed. ‘But what I suggest, Alice, is that now you’re earning a bit o’ money you put some of it aside an’ then once a month, say, you could mek up a parcel o’ food and put ’money you’ve saved in an envelope an’ tuck it inside ’box an’ send it wi’ carrier. That way there’ll be no chance of it going astray an’ your ma can look forward to it coming. And mebbe when we’ve settled into a routine and when we’re ower
winter,
Joe can borrow a hoss and cart one Sunday and drive you to see her.’

And then Alice did start to cry, wiping her eyes on her apron and spluttering her thanks.

Sarah had decided that they wouldn’t have Sunday opening, and they were all pleased about it for it gave them the chance not only to relax but also to take stock of how business had been, to discuss the general needs of their customers and the popularity of various ales and spirits, and time to prepare for the following week.

On the first Sunday after the opening, after they had eaten their dinner and cleared the table, Sarah brought out an account book, took some money bags from a safe where they had been kept overnight and poured out the two days’ takings on to the table ready to count it. ‘I hate this job,’ she said. ‘Your father allus did it. He had a head for numbers and I don’t.’

‘Ma,’ Bella said. ‘Before you start on ’accounts, don’t you think we should discuss Nell and try to find out where she’s gone?’

‘No,’ her mother said prosaically. ‘Nell’ll get in touch when she’s good ’n’ ready, just like William.’

Bella sighed. William had only sent two letters in all the time he had been away and she couldn’t understand why her mother wasn’t anxious about him or Nell; or maybe she was and just wasn’t saying. She wasn’t a hard woman, but she didn’t share her daughter’s anxieties.

‘Why don’t you let Bella do ’accounts, Ma?’ Joe asked. ‘She wanted to be a schoolteacher, didn’t she?’ He winked at Bella. ‘You could get Henry to help you count ’cash and learn him his numbers.’

Bella began to protest, but her mother took Joe seriously and Henry looked up from a book as his mother said, ‘Aye, you could, Bella. It’d be a load off my mind; I’ve allus to count it at least twice.’

Henry slid off his chair and came to the table and stood next to Sarah. ‘I can count pennies up to twelve,’ he told her, ‘and that meks a shilling.’

Although Bella was about to complain that she already had plenty of things to do in the Maritime, she felt that doing the account books would be a challenge. It also meant that she would know if they were making a profit, and if they were not could think of ways to do so.

‘I never thought you wanted any help, Ma, or I’d have offered before.’

Sarah pursed her lips. ‘Well, I suppose I thought you were too young, but now I know you’ve got a good head on your shoulders there’s no reason why you shouldn’t. And after all, if owt happens to me you and Joe’ll be in charge and it’s as well to be prepared.’ She relinquished her chair at the table and sat in the easy chair by the range. ‘Go on then,’ she said, settling herself comfortably. ‘Let’s see what you mek of it.’

The money had been counted, Henry putting the pennies into columns of twelve, Joe stacking the shillings into twenties and Bella entering the total into the account book. They had put the money back into the safe and closed the book when someone knocked on the back door.

It was a familiar knock and one that Bella recognized. She opened the door to Reuben Jacobs and smilingly bade him come in.

‘Am I disturbing your day of rest?’ he asked diffidently. ‘It is Sunday and I saw that you were closed.’

‘We’re always pleased to see you,’ Bella told him. ‘Ma decided that we’d close on a Sunday. We, erm, sometimes go to church but haven’t been to a Hull church yet. We often have other things to do too.’

‘I understand,’ he said, taking the chair that was offered. ‘Sometimes I too am lax over going to synagogue. I am, I suppose, of a secular disposition.’