Wait For the Dawn (12 page)

‘I’m just going to see Evie,’ she said. ‘I’ll be back soon.’

Her father raised his hand in acknowledgement but said nothing. He was sitting at the table working at his papers. Closing the door behind her, she let herself out from the hall into the yard and moved into the lane.

Evie had just finished eating her dinner when Lydia
called at the house. ‘I just came to say a quick goodbye,’ Lydia said.

‘I’ll come out with you for a second,’ Evie said. ‘Mother’ll look after Hennie.’

A minute later they were standing together at the little front gate. They had not had a chance to speak in several days.

‘So,’ Evie said, ‘you’ll be off soon.’

‘Yes, Mr Lindsley’ll be coming for me. I’m all ready to leave.’

Evie nodded. ‘How’s your dad taking it?’

‘Not well, I’m afraid.’

‘He’s gunna miss you so much.’

‘No doubt he will – and I’ll miss him too.’

‘But you start work tomorrow – your new job.’

‘Yes, I have to report at eight-thirty.’

‘How d’you feel about it now? Are you nervous?’

‘A little – though I haven’t had much chance to feel very much at all. It’s been hectic, getting ready.’ She was aware of the minutes passing. ‘I suppose I’d better get back,’ she said. ‘There’s a couple of things to do before Mr Lindsley comes. This was a very quick goodbye. I’m sorry.’

‘That’s all right. Don’t leave it too long before you come to visit.’

‘I won’t – and I’ll write to you soon and let you know how things are going.’

Lydia put out her hand and Evie clasped it. Then the two embraced. ‘Just think,’ Evie said as they drew apart. ‘You’re starting a whole new life.’

On returning home Lydia found her father still in the parlour. Putting her apron back on, she moved about the place doing last bits of tidying and arranging, never keeping her glance far from the clock over the fireplace, until she saw it was time that the fly was due. She took off
her apron again and hung it up, then lifted down her cape and hat.

Standing before the speckled glass in the kitchen she put on her cape and pinned her hat in place. Then, moving into the hall, she tapped on the parlour door and opened it. Her father still sat at the table, his papers before him. He did not turn at her entrance.

‘Father – I’m ready to go, and Mr Lindsley’s due any moment to take me to the coach.’ Even as she spoke she heard the sound of a carriage out in the lane and, looking across to the window, saw the fly pulling to a halt. ‘Here he is now,’ she said.

Mr Halley said nothing.

‘Father . . .?’ Lydia said. A little silence, and then: ‘Father, I must go.’

Still he did not speak.

They heard footfalls on the cobbles, and then the cabdriver moved past the window. The sound of the knocker on the door was sharp.

‘Here’s Mr Lindsley now,’ Lydia said.

Her father made no acknowledgement of her words, but continued to look ahead. After a moment Lydia moved to him, stopped beside him.

‘Father . . . goodbye.’

He gave the briefest nod. ‘Goodbye.’

‘Aren’t you going to wish me good luck? Aren’t you coming with me to the carriage?’

He did not answer.

‘Very well,’ she said after a moment. She took a step away. ‘I’ll write to you, and I’ll be back to see you soon.’

She left him then, and moved back into the hall where her luggage was standing. Opening the front door she greeted the driver and he took up first her box and then her travelling bag and carried them out to the fly. Lydia followed in his footsteps and climbed on board. Seconds
later the driver had swung up onto the seat and they were starting away.

Even as they moved along Lydia looked back in hopes of seeing a last-second appearance of her father, but the lane remained empty.

From the window of her small room on the top floor of the house in Little Marsh Street Lydia stood looking out. She could see across the paved yard below, and over the short garden to the rear of the row of terraced houses beyond. Behind her, the room held a single bed, washstand, small wardrobe and chest of drawers, a tiny writing table with an old upright chair, and a worn easy chair. The room was as neat as she had found it a few hours before, the few belongings she had brought with her in her box and travelling bag now having been packed away in the drawers or hung up in the wardrobe. Her journey from Capinfell had involved a cab, a coach, a train and then a cab from Redbury station, and with what relief had she finally got her luggage carried up the stairs and deposited in her room.

This evening, downstairs in the dining room, she had eaten a dish provided by Mrs Obdermann, a tasty mutton stew that had been most welcome. After the meal she had come back up to her room, where she had rested for a while, and then a little later, putting on her cape and hat, she had gone out into the streets of the town, to take a stroll and look around the area and get some more immediate picture of her surroundings.

Now here she was, back again, and before her was her first night in the house.

She sighed as the memory of her leave-taking from her father came back to her, but the difficulties where he was concerned would have to remain as they were for the time being. There was no chance of mending them yet. In any
case, she told herself again, he would come round to the idea in time. Once he was used to the new situation he would surely be more understanding.

She closed the curtains and stepped back from the window. It was getting late, and she must be up early for her first day at the store.

As she put on her nightdress she told herself that she was sure she would never sleep. She was far too excited, far too anxious and nervous. So much that was unknown lay before her. She blew out the flame of the small lamp then got into bed and lay down. The mattress felt strange beneath her body, the pillow strange beneath her head, but she would get used to it. One good thing: the bedding was crisp and clean and smelled fresh. It was a factor that brought her relief, for she had heard numerous stories of people finding themselves caught in lodging houses that were dirty and riddled with vermin.

For a time she lay listening to the unaccustomed sounds of the night city and then she drifted off to sleep.

She entered the staff door of the emporium well before eight-thirty the next morning, and after making enquiries was shown to the postal order department. She had been told to report to a Mr Watson, the supervisor, and on her arrival found him already behind his desk, working at various papers and ledgers. He was situated at the side of a large room, a room filled with rows of long tables stretching right across it. Already dozens of men and women were arriving, relieving themselves of their coats and hats and taking their places at the tables.

Mr Watson was a man in his fifties, tall and somewhat stooping. He seemed very pleasant to Lydia, and as he spoke to her he broke off to exchange occasional greetings with the clerks. He explained to Lydia what the procedure was and what she would be expected to do. As she had
learned, there were well over fifty clerks in the department, and all of them were there to facilitate the sending of items through the post. The emporium advertised widely, and customers sent in their orders from all over the west of England. The postal order department was there to deal with those orders, whether they were for a Turkish carpet, a pair of silk stockings, or a fashionable day dress.

As the other clerks were doing, Lydia was required to deal with orders that had come in that morning. Requisition documents had to be made out, along with advice notes and invoices, and these sent by messengers to the stock department. From there the goods would be forwarded to the despatch office where they would be packed and sent off to the customer. If any particular item was at present unavailable – either through being temporarily out of stock, or because the line had been discontinued – it was the job of the clerk to write to the customer to such effect.

The hours seemed to pass quickly, and Lydia had plenty of work to keep her occupied. She had to ask many questions of her experienced colleagues in the course of her learning, but that she was indeed learning she had no doubt. There was also more variety in her work than she had anticipated; she was by no means kept in the confines of the office all the time, for there were many occasions when she was required to go out into the store proper and make enquiries of some of the salesmen or saleswomen. In this way she began to learn more of the layout of the store and of the wide range of goods that were sold there.

On Tuesday evening, back in her room after getting in from finishing her working day, she sat down at the small table to write a letter to Ryllis. In it she told her a little about her work so far at the store and of how she was settling in. She then asked whether she and Ryllis could meet that coming Sunday.

On Saturdays, Lydia was required to work only until two o’clock, after which she was free until Monday morning, and it was on Saturday that she returned to Little Marsh Street to find a letter awaiting her from Ryllis. In it, Ryllis said she would come into Redbury the next day, and would meet Lydia in the small garden beside the square where they had finally found one another on their last meeting. So the next afternoon, just before two-thirty, Lydia crossed the square in Redbury towards the little garden – quite crowded on this bright, warm Sunday afternoon – and there saw Ryllis waiting for her, sitting on one of the benches in the shade of the laburnum tree. And seeing her there, she thought at once of her previous visit to the place, when she had met the stranger who had helped to gather up her strawberries.

Ryllis got to her feet as Lydia drew near, and the two embraced. Then they sat down side by side on the bench. Ryllis wore her blue dress with the grey trim, and her brown straw hat. Like Lydia on this hot day, she wore no cape.

‘Oh, Lyddy, it’s so warm!’ Ryllis fanned herself with her hand. ‘Let’s go somewhere and get out of the sun. It’s too hot sitting here.’

‘Where d’you want to go?’ Lydia asked. ‘It’s too early to go and have tea.’

‘Can we go back to your lodgings? I’m dying to put my feet up for an hour.’

‘Come on, then.’

As Lydia prepared to get up, Ryllis said, ‘Just a second. There’s something I have to tell you.’

‘What’s that?’

Ryllis paused. ‘There’s someone I want you to meet later on.’

‘Someone?’ Lydia’s eyes widened. ‘Are you meaning your Mr Thomas Bissett?’

Ryllis nodded. ‘The same.’ She smiled. ‘What do you think?’

‘Well, I’d love to meet him. What’s the arrangement?’

‘He’s coming into Redbury later. He hasn’t got much time, but I said we’ll meet him at four o’clock in the teashop next to the bank in the High Street.’

‘Excellent,’ said Lydia. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’ She looked about her. ‘Well – shall we go and have a rest somewhere in the meantime?’

Mrs Obdermann was just coming out of her sitting room when the sisters entered the hall of number 15, Little Marsh Street, and she looked with curiosity at Lydia’s guest. At once Lydia said to the woman, ‘Mrs Obdermann, this is my sister Ryllis, come to visit me for the afternoon from Barford,’ and the landlady gave a cool little smile and murmured a greeting.

Upstairs in Lydia’s room, the girls took off their hats and boots. Ryllis, giving a little groan of pleasure, lay back on the bed, her hands behind her head. Lydia sat in the one small easy chair. ‘So,’ she said, ‘what do you think of it?’

Raising her head just enough to look around, Ryllis said, ‘It’s nice, and it’s big enough, I reckon. I wish I had such a room at the Lucases’. Where do you eat?’

‘Downstairs in the dining room. I get breakfast there, and supper, served by Mrs Obdermann.’

‘What’s she like?’ Ryllis lowered her voice to little more than a whisper. ‘That was a very old-fashioned look she gave me when we came in.’

‘I know,’ said Lydia, her own voice very low, ‘but she’s all right. I think she’s just rather watchful as to who comes into her house. God forbid she should ever see a strange man here. She’d have a fit.’

‘Are there any other lodgers?’

‘Not right now, though usually, I understand, she has a
second one. But never any men, and she allows no male guests. She’s made that clear.’

‘Well, there’s no danger of that, is there? You wanting to invite in a male friend. Mind you, now that you’re mixing with so many new people, who knows what the future might hold.’

‘Oh, Ryllis,’ Lydia gave a little laugh, ‘I’m not here in Redbury to form an attachment.’ Then, her tone serious, she added, ‘I
had
to leave. Even before Mother’s death I felt I wanted to go, but she needed me there. We never spoke of it, the notion of my leaving, but I know she’d have been heartbroken if I’d gone. It was bad enough for her when
you
left home – but to be left by
both
her daughters . . .’

‘Yes.’ Ryllis nodded.

‘And what was before me, living at home with Father, now that Mother was gone? I could see the whole picture. So clearly. Me staying on there, still working at Cremson’s, and in the house just looking after Father – cleaning, doing his washing; cooking and mending for him. That’s how it would go on, for years and years. It’s a common story, where one daughter is left in a house. You see it all the time. Look at Ursie Woodleigh in Capinfell – on her mother’s death taking over the job of looking after her father and two brothers, and there she still is, well into her forties now and without a hope of ever getting a life of her own – a husband, her own children, her own home.’

‘Are you sure that isn’t what you’re looking for – a husband, children, your own home?’ Ryllis smiled, her eyes narrowed. ‘It wouldn’t be before time. After all, you’re twenty-one.’

‘I know I’m twenty-one – and I want to be free to make my own life. Father thinks I’ll end up unhappy, but that’s a chance I’ve got to take. If my life does turn out to go wrong, then that’s something I’ll have to deal with, but at least it will be
my
life.’ She gave an ironic smile. ‘I doubt anything
could happen to me under Father’s watchful eye, but if something
did
happen – if I
should
meet someone special . . . Oh, I’ve read books where people are swept away by great passions. They love, they fall in love, and it changes their whole lives; their whole reason for living is different. I don’t understand it, of course, as I’ve never experienced it, but it seems that it must be a most – most miraculous thing.’ She grinned at her sister. ‘What about you, Ryllis? Have you been in love? Are you in love with your Mr Bissett?’