The Long Walk Home (19 page)

The thought of it filled her with despair. She had always had a quiet childhood. Her friends, if they could be so called, had been carefully chosen for her; a select few who were considered suitable companions and who had had as little say in the matter as she had.

'No, I thought not,' he muttered. He began to pace the room, holding his chin in his hand and chewing on his lip. Then he stopped in front of Eleanor. 'Until your mother comes to her senses,' he announced, 'you must run the household. You should know enough by now to organize Cook and the maids. We will eat together as if nothing unusual has happened.'

'Yes, Father,' Eleanor murmured. She had been allowed to join her parents for their evening meal for quite some time now and had considered that changing into evening attire was very tiresome when there were just the three of them. Her mother always dressed very properly, usually in watered silk or georgette, and wore pearls in her hair or round her neck, Eleanor often flouted convention and merely donned a pretty shawl over her day dress, or perhaps a fichu of lace at the neck, and hoped her father wouldn't observe it. Usually he didn't. Now, she reflected, he was sure to notice.

'Will you travel to Nottingham, Father?' she asked. 'Perhaps Mama is unwell and only needs a short time away from home.' Even as she said it she knew it wasn't true.

'I cannot travel anywhere at the moment.' He spoke abruptly. 'There is an inquiry at my place of work and I must be available.'

'Oh?' Eleanor raised her head but the look on her father's face defied her to question him. An inquiry? She recalled the police carriage in Bishop Lane, and meeting the unctuous Percy Smart who had slipped out of the office. I do hope Papa isn't in any kind of trouble. He can't possibly be; he's always so punctilious, such a purist. Yet a flash of memory recalled an occasion when Simon had clashed with him and their father had bawled, 'Do as I
say
, not as I do!'

I wish Mama was here. She would know what to do. She would know how to act normally and go about the everyday tasks, as if everything was all right. Yet it's not all right. I feel unsure and anxious, as if my world is falling apart.

She blinked; tears were not far away. I'm a prisoner. She watched as her father continued his pacing, muttering, occasionally clenching his fists and shaking them as if making a point. A prisoner and my father is my jailer, she thought. I would run away, but what would I do for money and where would I go?

That evening, before supper, Mary came to tell Eleanor that her father wished to speak to her. When she came downstairs he was seated at his desk but she was surprised to see him dressed in smart outdoor attire. He was shaved, with his hair pomaded and his side whiskers trimmed.

'I have to go out,' he said. 'I won't be back for supper.' He finished whatever it was he was writing and turned to her. 'I have put money in the cash box for any incidentals that you might need. Please ensure that you obtain a receipt for anything you spend. There should be enough money to last a week. I don't suppose you'll need much, but accounts for the butcher, grocer and so on should be sent to me as usual.'

He stood up. His colour was high and he seemed agitated. 'I'll see you at breakfast.'

She was relieved to see him depart, but curious about where he was going. To meet friends perhaps and discuss his current problem, whatever it was. She ran upstairs to look out of the top window to check on his direction. At first she couldn't see him. He wasn't heading towards the office or the town with its inns and coffee houses, but then she turned her head and glanced the other way and saw him walking briskly in the other direction towards the opposite end of the High Street.

Wherever is he going, she wondered. There's nothing up there to interest him. Only dilapidated dwelling houses and disreputable taverns. She had been told often enough not to travel that way, especially not after dusk. But her father was walking steadily as if he knew exactly where he was going.

Why am I so uneasy, she thought. Papa used to go out quite a lot in the evening at one time. He was also often late home from the office and Mama would pace about wringing her hands. She never would say why she was worried. A distant memory of her parents' raised voices came to mind, her mother's piteous and accusing, her father's arrogant and overbearing. It was around that time that her mother seemed to withdraw into herself, and it was as if they began to live separate lives.

I can't live like this. The feeling of being trapped, a virtual prisoner, began to overwhelm her. She thought of the money in the cash box. Enough for a week, he'd said. That wasn't enough. I'll save it, she decided. I'll save it until there's enough to take me to Nottingham and then I'll leave.

It took Eleanor three weeks to save what she considered to be sufficient money for a journey, but she had to practise deceit, for her father had asked for receipts for everything. She had previously received slips of paper from the haberdasher's itemizing articles purchased on credit. These she carefully copied, and for small items such as silks or ribbons she wrote 'Paid with thanks' at the bottom, with an undecipherable signature. On other slips, she wrote 'For personal items', hoping that her father wouldn't question them, which he didn't.

At the end of each week, she left a few coins in the cash box to show that she wasn't overspending and on the third weekend she noticed that her father counted out the same amount of money without checking the contents of the box. Another week, she contemplated, and then I will make plans.

On the following Monday she and her father were finishing breakfast when there came a hammering on the front door. Her father frowned; he faltered over his bacon and dropped his knife on the floor.

Eleanor rose to get him another, but he barked at her, 'Leave it. Leave it.'

She sat down again and saw that he had grown pale and was biting nervously on his lip. 'Who might it be, Papa?' she asked tremulously. 'Is it bad news?'

'I think possibly so,' he muttered. 'And if it is, then you must get in touch with your mother immediately.'

She was about to ask him with what intention when Mary knocked and came into the room. 'Beg pardon, Mr Kendall. Two . . . gentlemen,' she hesitated over the word, 'two people to see you privately.'

Mr Kendall rose to his feet, scraping the chair legs on the floor, and Eleanor rose too.

'In my study,' he said. 'Take them in there.'

'Father, what is it? Who is it who's come?' Eleanor screwed and knotted her table napkin.

'The police, I think,' he said, quite calmly. 'They will want to ask me some questions regarding the office inquiry.'

'Police! What's wrong? Is there something missing?'

'Yes.' He was abrupt. 'There is money missing from a client's account, and I have been accused of misappropriating it.' He walked briskly towards the door. 'Finish your breakfast.'

She sat down with a thud. Surely her father wouldn't do such a thing. He was in a position of trust, and had been with the same firm of lawyers for years. It must be a mistake. Her mouth was dry. She picked up the teapot to pour more tea into her cup but her hand trembled so that she couldn't hold it.

Mary came back into the room. 'Shall I clear away, Miss Eleanor, or would you like something else?' She spoke quietly and seemed anxious.

'Would you bring me some water, please?' Eleanor's voice cracked. 'The bacon was very salty.'

They'll be discussing it in the kitchen, she thought. Mary will have told Cook that the police have come to the house. They'll be worried that they might lose their jobs. Which they will, she realized, if Papa should be found guilty and lose his position at the firm. Who would pay their wages? Her mind raced on. Suppose he went to prison? Not that he would have done anything underhand, of course he wouldn't. He was so opposed to wrongdoing.

Her father never discussed his work or his clients, but with a sudden clarity she remembered the rabbit boy from all those years ago. A criminal, her father had called him, and stated that he should be punished by a spell in prison to teach him the error of his ways.

It must be a mistake. Papa is a pillar of society. An upholder of what is right. She also recalled the outcry when her father discovered that Simon had stolen money just before he ran away. She put her hand to her mouth. Whatever would he say if he realized that she too had taken money from the cash box for her own use?

Mary came back with a jug of water and poured Eleanor a glass, then quietly cleared away the breakfast dishes. 'Can I get you anything else, Miss Eleanor?' she asked, and when Eleanor shook her head she went out of the room.

She sat for nearly half an hour, sipping water, meditating and making plans for all eventualities, and then got up and went to look out of the window. Outside their door was a black carriage. She took a sudden intake of breath. It was an enclosed two-horse vehicle with small barred windows at the side and a door at the rear, just like the one she had seen outside her father's office. Sitting at the front was a uniformed policeman.

Eleanor turned as the door opened. She felt very faint and giddy. Her father stood there, his face even paler yet wearing an expression of disdain.

'Eleanor, I have to go with these officers to answer some more questions.' He hesitated. 'I might not be back tonight. Will you pack a bag with a towel and my shaving things?'

She stared at him, then licked her dry lips. He looked away from her. 'Would you hurry, please? These people are very impatient.'

'Yes.' She galvanized herself into action. 'Wwill you be gone for long?'

'I don't know.' He was abrupt, as if he didn't want to speak or think about it. 'Write to your mother and tell her to come home. There are arrangements to be made.'

Tell
her, she thought as she ran upstairs. How can I
tell
my mother to do anything? If she had decided to leave, why would she change her mind and come home to a position of shame? For that is what it will be, even if my father is innocent and proved so. Mud sticks and there will always be some who will say that there's no smoke without fire.

She went to the linen cupboard and selected a towel, and then took out a second. He might be there longer than a day and a night. Will someone do his laundry, I wonder? She realized that her knowledge of court or prison procedure was woefully inadequate. In her father's dressing room where his zinc bath and washstand were, she found his dressing gown, razor blade, shaving brush and soap and hunted in the bottom of the wardrobe for a small travelling bag which he occasionally used if he was away attending an out of town client. She unearthed it and began to pack, taking out a journal to make room.

Then she thought he might welcome something to read, and flicked through the pages. She dropped it with a gasp. There were pictures of women, not ladies, in it, most of them in various stages of undress.

'Oh,' she breathed. 'However did that get there?'

She hurriedly hid the journal in the wardrobe and placed a pair of shoes over it. I'll have to hide or burn it later, she thought. I can't risk Mary finding it.

A voice called up the stairs. It wasn't her father but one of the policemen. 'Come along, miss,' he bellowed. 'We haven't got all day.'

She burst into tears as she ran downstairs and handed over the bag to her father. He took it without a word, but a frown creased the top of his nose and his eyes narrowed as he opened it.

'I shan't need this.' He handed the dressing gown back to her and one of the policemen sniggered. 'Was there anything else in the bag?'

'No, Father,' she lied. 'It was empty.'

His face cleared. 'Thank you, Eleanor. Write to your mother,' he said again. 'Goodbye.'

And he was gone. She stood by the closed door and stared through the top half, which was of stained glass in the shape and colours of a sunburst. She saw the top of her father's head suffused with yellow and his jacket with purple as he climbed the steps into the police van.

Eleanor wiped away her tears and turned as she heard a sound at the top of the servants' stairs to the basement. Mary was standing there. 'I hope it's not trouble, miss,' she said. 'Cook and me are right worried.'

Eleanor swallowed. 'I'm sure it's not,' she said bravely. 'It's some kind of misunderstanding, I believe. That's why my father has gone with those men. To try to shed some light on the matter. I expect him to be home in a day or two. In the meantime we must carry on as usual.'

Mary nodded and dipped her knee, but looked doubtful. 'Yes, miss,' she said. 'Will you be wanting luncheon?'

Eleanor took a deep breath. 'I don't believe I will,' she said. 'I'll have coffee and some bread and cheese in my room at midday. I'm going out now. Would you get my coat and hat from upstairs, Mary?' She suddenly felt she hadn't the strength to climb the stairs again, but she was desperate to get out of the house.

As she waited for the servant to come back, she fought to keep back more tears. I mustn't cry in front of her, she thought. She will know there is something terribly wrong if I do.

Mary helped her on with her coat. 'You'll ask if there's anything we can do, Miss Eleanor? We'll be onny too pleased to help.'

'Thank you, Mary,' she murmured. 'But I'm sure everything will be all right.'

'Perhaps you should write to your mother,' Mary said kindly. 'You're very young to be left alone. It don't seem right.'

Eleanor nodded. 'Yes,' she agreed. 'That is what I'll do as soon as I come back.'

She walked without any real idea of where she was going. She wandered the length of the High Street, pausing to gaze down at the Old Harbour from Rotten Herring Staith, but not staying long as the men working at the warehouses looked at her curiously. She crossed over Blackfriargate and from there she turned into Humber Street and Queen Street and came to the pier.

She leaned on the rail and gazed down into the choppy water. The tide was high and the waves threw fine spray into her face, which hid the tears which she hadn't been able to control as she walked. She fished for a handkerchief, patted her eyes and then blew her nose.