Wait For the Dawn (11 page)

‘Oh, but you somehow seemed a little – happier when you wrote. In your letter to me you hinted at having something to tell me. Something good. Wasn’t that so?’

And now Ryllis smiled. ‘Well, yes. I
have
got something to tell you, and it
is
something good, I think.’

‘Well?’ Lydia waited.

Ryllis finished the last of her pie and pushed the plate aside. ‘I met someone,’ she said.

‘Oh?’

‘Yes, I was returning from the post office in Barford last month, and – I met someone.’

Lydia took a sip from her glass and waited.

Ryllis went on, ‘There was a bird, fallen out of its nest. A baby rook. Well, not fallen out of the nest, but tossed out by the parents. It landed right by me as I was walking along beneath the trees. It gave me a little start; I wondered what it could be. And then . . .’ she smiled again now, ‘then this young man came along, just as I was looking at the bird, and he said we should take pity on it and put it out of its misery, and kill the poor thing.’ She shrugged. ‘So – that’s what he did. He got this big stone and – and killed it.’ She gave a little shudder. ‘Oh,
I
couldn’t have done it.’ She took up her glass, found it empty and set it down again. ‘Anyway, his name is Thomas Bissett.’ She smiled again. ‘He’s eighteen, and he lives in Barford. His father’s a farmer, but not on some little farm – quite a big affair, with lots of land and quite a grand house, too.’

Lydia smiled. ‘Well, you kept that little secret to yourself.’

Ryllis smiled. ‘Yes. I don’t know how. I so wanted to write to you all about it.’ She frowned. ‘D’you think it’s all right, Lyddy?’

‘What d’you mean, all right?’

‘Well, you know – what with Mother having just died in March and . . . Well, I mean, there I am, finding some – well, some happiness. Perhaps it doesn’t seem quite right. Coming so soon.’

‘Oh, Ryllis, don’t think like that.’ Lydia put out her hand and pressed Ryllis’s wrist. ‘Mother would want you to be happy. If you really like this young man, I mean, and it seems you do.’

‘Oh, yes, I do. Oh, I really do, Lyddy.’

‘Tell me more about him. Is he nice looking?’

‘Oh, yes, he is. He’s a good bit taller than me. He’s got brown hair and brown eyes – and he smiles a lot – which is very nice. He’s been working in London with his uncle. London, imagine!’

‘Have you had the chance to meet much?’

‘Not a lot, but it’s something to look forward to when we get the chance. Oh, Lyddy, I like him so much, and it makes working for the Lucases almost bearable.’

‘Well, that’s saying something. So do I gather that you won’t be looking for a new situation just yet.’

‘Not just yet.’ Ryllis’s smile was wide.

‘One good thing,’ Lydia said, the thought suddenly occurring to her, ‘if I take the post offered to me at Seager’s – and I see no reason I shouldn’t – then it’ll be so much easier for you and me to meet. I shall be living here in Redbury, and you’re so close by in Barford.’

‘Oh, that’ll be so much better.’

Having kept a watchful eye on the old clock over the fireplace, Ryllis gave a sigh and said, ‘Lyddy, I must go. It’s getting late and I’ve got to get the coach.’

‘Yes, I’d better get busy as well.’ Dipping into her bag, Lydia took out the watch that had been her mother’s, opened it and checked it with the clock.

‘You’ve got Mother’s watch,’ Ryllis said.

‘Yes. Father gave it to me. He said she’d want me to have it.’ Briefly Lydia paused. ‘That’s all right with you, isn’t it? You’re not upset by that, are you?’

‘Oh, of course not.’ Ryllis patted Lydia’s arm. ‘It’s right that you have it. You’re the elder. It has to be yours. Good heavens, of course I’m not upset.’

Lydia gave a little nod and murmured, ‘Oh, Ryllis, you’re so sweet. Thank you.’ Then, with hardly a pause, she went on, ‘I – I wanted to talk to you about something too. Something in particular.’

‘Oh? What’s that?’

‘Something Father said when he gave me the watch.’

‘What? What did he say?’

‘He – he spoke about the night Mother was burned so dreadfully.’

‘Oh, Lyddy . . .’ Ryllis put a hand to her mouth as the memories came flooding back. ‘Go on,’ she said.

‘He said – he told me that he threw the lamp.’

Ryllis gasped. ‘Oh, no! Not at her – oh, dear God, don’t say that.’

‘No, he didn’t throw it
at
her,’ Lydia said quickly. ‘He threw it down in his anger and it hit the table, and the burning oil all splashed up and – well – we know what happened then – but it was an accident.’

Ryllis remained with her hand up to her mouth for a moment longer, then lowering her hand, she asked, ‘And did you believe him?’

‘Yes, I did. I do believe him. And if you’d heard him, Ryllis, you’d have believed him too.’ She paused. ‘I’ve wanted to tell you this, but I couldn’t say it in a letter. It had to wait till we met again.’

‘Of course. I’m so glad you told me. I’m so glad.’

‘Father – he’s so remorseful now. I feel sorry for him, and that makes it more difficult for me – with my intention to move away – but I’ve got to do it. I have to.’

‘Yes,’ Ryllis said, ‘I know.’

The two sisters sat looking at one another for a few moments in silence, then Ryllis said with a sad little smile, ‘I must go, Lyddy, or I shan’t have a job to go back to.’

Leaving the teahouse, Lydia and Ryllis went back out into the sunlight and set off across the square, heading for the railway station from where the coaches departed. The coach for Barford was already pulling in when they arrived, and Ryllis quickly put her arms around Lydia and hugged her.

‘Now, Lyddy, you let me know as soon as you can where you’ll be living, and once you’re here we shan’t have to wait too long between meetings, shall we?’

‘No, we shan’t.’

‘What’ll you do now?’

‘Well, I shall go and try to find myself some lodgings – and then I must go back home and break the news to Father. I’m not looking forward to that.’

People were boarding the coach, so Ryllis gave Lydia a peck on the cheek, took her fare money from her purse and turned away. Two minutes later Lydia was waving to her as the coach started off along the street.

Lydia watched the coach turn out of sight at the corner, then took from her bag the list of lodging houses given to her by Mr Donovan. She looked at the first one on the list, glanced about her to get her bearings, and set off.

Lydia felt somewhat tired as she sat on the coach taking her from Merinville to Capinfell that evening, but she was none the less quite pleased with herself, for she had the satisfaction of accomplishment. She had secured a situation with Seager’s store, and had also found suitable lodgings, starting in two weeks’ time when she would arrive to take up her employment.

They were situated in Little Marsh Street, some fifteen minutes’ walk from the department store, which would be ideal, for she would never need to spend money on cabs or other carriages. On ringing the bell at the house she had been shown upstairs by the landlady, Mrs Obdermann, a tall, heavily set woman with grey hair in braids that were coiled into rings over her ears. She seemed friendly enough, and told Lydia that in the past she had several times let out her spare room to staff from Seager’s, and that she got no tenants that were there but on the warmest recommendation. The room she showed Lydia was small and right at the top of the house, with a ceiling that sloped down to the low wall on one side. It was simply furnished, but looked very clean and tidy, and for this Lydia inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. She had heard a myriad stories of unfit lodging-house rooms, and did not want to find herself
adding to the list of anecdotes. ‘I have to make it clear, miss,’ the landlady told her, ‘I allow in the room no pets, no food and no gentleman callers,’ and Lydia said that she would not be considering any of the three. So she had told Mrs Obdermann that she would take the room, and had given her a deposit, saying that she would take up occupation on Sunday, the 6th of July.

And now here she was, on the coach, and it was drawing into Capinfell.

‘I bought some lovely strawberries, Father,’ she said, as she walked into the kitchen from the scullery. ‘I got them from a market stall in Redbury, and they were too good to resist.’

Mr Halley was sitting at the table in the kitchen, working at his papers, his notes for one of his sermons spread out in front of him. He turned to her as she came into the room and watched as she set her basket down on the table.

‘I saw Ryllis,’ Lydia said.

‘Ah, did you now. And how is the girl?’

‘She’s well. A little happier, I think.’

‘I’m glad to hear it, and it’s not before time.’

A little silence fell. Lydia took off her cape and hat, then said, assuming a casual tone, ‘We had a glass of lemonade together. Then I saw her to her coach.’

‘I see.’ A long pause, then he said, ‘And what about you? Did you keep your appointment at Seager’s?’

‘Yes.’

‘And?’

She hesitated for a second then said, ‘I – I’ve been offered a position. As a clerk. In the postal order department.’

‘And did you accept?’

‘Yes.’

‘I see.’

‘I start work there on Monday, July the 7th.’

‘Just two weeks away. Not long.’

‘No, not long.’

‘I see,’ he said again. He did not look up from his notes, nor move his pencil which was poised in his hand. ‘Well, I don’t mind telling you, you’ll be missed at Cremson’s,’ he added. ‘You’ve been there five years now in that office.’

Lydia didn’t know what to say. After a second she said, ‘I’m sure I shall miss it too. Still . . .’

He set his pencil down now, but still did not look directly at her. ‘Are you – are you bettering yourself?’ he asked.

‘Oh, Father, I always would like to think I’m doing that – whatever step I’m taking.’

‘If it doesn’t work out for you, I suppose there’s a chance you might get your position back. I know Mr McCabe likes you a lot. He always speaks highly of you. But there, that remains to be seen. You can’t rely on it, though.’

‘I know that. I wouldn’t expect to have it back.’ She took a breath in the silence, and added bravely, ‘I wouldn’t want it back.’

His eyes widened behind his spectacles at this; a faint look of shock briefly registering.

‘I don’t mean to belittle the work, Father,’ Lydia quickly said. ‘It’s just that I want to move on. To do something different, to – to widen my horizons a little.’

‘And you reckon you’ll do that in the postal order department of Seager’s, do you?’ His voice was cold.

‘It’s a start,’ she said with energy, ‘and that’s all I’m looking for. The man I spoke to, Mr Donovan, he said there’s plenty of opportunity to better myself, plenty of chances for promotion for the right person, he said, ‘and that’s all I’m looking for at this point – opportunity.’

Her father gave a deep sigh and stared down at his papers. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I have to be quite honest – and tell you that I shall miss you too around the factory. I was proud of having you there in the office, of seeing you going
about your business, and knowing that you had the full endorsement of the management.’

She said nothing.

He lowered his head slightly, raised his eyes to her over the rims of his spectacles and gave a sigh. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘it seems your mind is made up, and if you’re going, you’re going.’ He paused. ‘And maybe there’ll be a bed for you when you return, and maybe there won’t.’

In the days leading up to Lydia’s departure, it appeared as if her father preferred to behave as if nothing were happening, as if it were not imminent. That Sunday morning on the day of her leaving, while Lydia did not go to the service at the church, he went as usual, and came back to the house at his customary time. In his absence she tidied her room and got on with her packing. In the course of doing the latter, she carefully folded and put away the nightdress to which she had added the piece of Nottingham lace that Mr Canbrook had given her that day in Merinville, just before her mother’s death. He had told her at the time that he would write and then come to call upon her in Capinfell. He had not done so. Her mother’s death had put a stop to any proceedings in that direction. Lydia had received from him a letter of condolence and that had been the end of it. Like certain other things now, she told herself as she put the garment away, it was a part of the past.

Finished with her packing, she prepared Sunday dinner for herself and her father, and on his return they sat down together to eat. In the near-complete silence that reigned at the table, he ate sparingly of the main course, and then, towards the end, when she served the pudding of pears and custard, looked at the dish before him and laid down his spoon. Hearing his intake of breath, Lydia looked at him and saw that there were tears in his eyes.

‘Oh – Father . . .’

He swallowed, then said gruffly, avoiding her glance, ‘I’m sorry, but I’m not so hungry.’

Lydia was unable to think of anything to say.

‘You could still change your mind.’ He spoke without looking at her. ‘Cremson’s would have you back like a shot.’

Still she did not speak, but looked down at her plate. The seconds ticked by.

‘But I suppose that’s too much to wish for,’ he said. Then, ‘Have you thought about me, what’s to become of me?’

‘Of course I have.’

‘Well, that comes as a surprise. I had the feeling I was the last to be considered.’

‘You’ll be all right, Father,’ she said, ‘with Mrs Harbutt coming in to clean up and cook for you and do your bit of washing . . .’

‘What do I want with the likes of Mrs Harbutt coming round to care for me? It’s not the same.’

‘Father, I’ll get back to see you very soon, and I’ll write to you often.’

‘I don’t want you doing me any favours.’ He pushed his bowl away, got up from his chair and went from the room. Lydia heard the door to the parlour open and close.

Rising, she took up the dishes of pears and carried them out to the larder. When she had finished washing the pots and pans and tidying the place she looked at the clock. Another hour and she must expect Mr Lindsley, the fly-driver. Moving into the hall she tapped at the parlour door, opened it and put her head round.