Connie’s Courage (35 page)

‘Aunt, I think I had better take Connie home.

‘Mama, perhaps you should not have mentioned Connie's husband, Connie heard Cecily whispering reprovingly to her mother, as Ellie guided her toward the door.

And take it from me, the side which controls this War in the air will be the side that will ultimately win this War …'

As unobtrusively as she could, Connie tried to ease the discomfort of the growing bulk of her body whilst at the same time listening attentively to her brother. Henrietta, the child of Ellie's first husband and his Japanese lover, sat transfixed, her openly adoring gaze never once leaving John's face.

Henrietta might still be very much a child, but one could already see the promise of the beauty she was going to be, Connie admitted.

Their Aunt Gibson frequently expressed her disapproval of the fact that Ellie treated Henrietta as though she were her and Gideon's own child.

But Aunt, she is, since we have legally adopted her,' Connie had heard Ellie point out, with unusual steel in her voice.

She is the child of a disgraceful and unlawful union,' their aunt had insisted sharply.

‘No, Ellie had corrected her, equally determinedly. ‘She is the child of love!

But Connie knew that, no matter what her sister might say, Henrietta would be punished by society both for her unorthodox parentage and her illegitimacy. Thanks to Gideon and Iris's determination and forethought, her own child would be spared that same slur, although Connie suspected that their Aunt Gibson was far from convinced as to the existence of her dead soldier husband.

‘I am planning to call and see Father this afternoon, Ellie, Connie heard John announcing.

Immediately she stopped him to say eagerly, ‘I'll come with you, if I may, John, I would like to see Father, too.

‘Perhaps we should all three go, Ellie agreed, although Connie could see that she looked worried and uncomfortable.

The subject of their father was not one that Ellie liked to discuss, although Connie had found out by accident, through an overheard conversation between Ellie and Gideon, that Gideon often had to provide his father-in-law with financial assistance.

‘It is not Father, Ellie had insisted, when Connie had demanded to know why Ellie seemed so reluctant to visit him or talk about him. ‘It is Maggie, Connie. She has made it plain that she does not want Father to involve himself with us, and it is for his sake that I do not see very much of him.

He was our father before he was her husband,' Connie had pointed out quietly.

There had been a small telling pause whilst the two sisters looked at one another.

I know what you are thinking, Connie,' Ellie had said in a low strained voice. You are remembering that time when you asked me to ask Father if we could all return home to Friargate.'

The time they had spent together since their reconciliation had brought a new closeness between them which was a mingling of the old relationship they had shared as girls, and a new appreciation of one another as young women. But there were still some barriers between them; some past hurts they had not discussed.

Connie had tensed a little, all too aware that none of those barriers had divided them more sharply or painfully than this one.

‘You promised, Ellie!' had been all that Connie could say at first, as her own emotions threatened to overwhelm her composure. I missed you all so much and I was so unhappy. You don't know how much it meant to me when you said you would go and see Father and beg him to let us go home. I know things were different for you. And I can see now why you would have preferred to stay with our Aunt and Uncle Parkes, and why you broke the promise you had made to me,' she had managed to continue eventually.

Do you still blame me for that, Connie? Can you not forgive me?' Ellie had wept.

‘I wanted to go home so much, Connie had answered her sadly, ‘and perhaps, if we had, then Father would not have married Maggie.

Ellie had looked at her as though she was about to say something, but they had been interrupted by one of the children, and Connie had not wanted to spoil the new closeness they were sharing by referring to the matter again.

At Connie's insistence they had decided to walk from Winckley Square to their father's shop and home in Friargate. And now as they crossed the market place, Ellie put a restraining hand on Connie's arm and warned gently, ‘Things in Friargate are not as they were when we lived there, Connie.

Connie made no response. Privately she suspected that Ellie's comments were coloured by the fact that she now lived so grandly in Winckley Square.

Just being in the familiar street tugged painfully on her heartstrings. She had grown up here after all, even if she felt as though there was a deep gulf now between the happiness she had known as a child, and the woman she had become.

A small group of children were playing in the street, and in the window of the baker's shop hung a sign reminding everyone of the King's exhortation to remember they were at war and to restrict their consumption of bread.

She could already see their father's shop and automatically she started to hurry toward it.

The sight of peeling paint and the unpolished doorstep brought her up sharply, but she didn't say anything as she saw the look John and Ellie exchanged.

It was John who led the way into the shop itself, surely smaller and shabbier than she had remembered. Like their father himself, Connie wondered, stifling a sense of shocked confusion as he looked up from the meat he was trimming, and she recognised how much older he looked. And how the set of his shoulders now had a defeated air about it where she had remembered it as jaunty.

The smile illuminating her father's face was the same though. Calling to his assistant to take over from him, he came toward them exclaiming in pleasure, By all things, this is a wonderful surprise. John and Ellie … And Connie! Come on into the house.'

Connie didn't need to ask why Ellie tensed a little before turning to follow him. The very air in the place had a musty, slightly sour taint to it that made her want to wrinkle her nose. Thanks to Matron's insistence on her nurses following the procedures set down by Florence Nightingale, the nurse in Connie abhorred dirt of any kind, for dirt was parent to disease. As she lifted her hand from the greasy banister rail and saw the unkempt, unbrushed state of the stairs leading up to the living quarters above the shop, she grimaced in disgust.

‘Maggie, she heard their father call out with strained heartiness as he opened the door. ‘Come and see who has come to visit us.

Connie exhaled sharply as she looked round the once familiar parlour in disbelief. Whatever else she might be, their father's second wife was obviously no housewife. There were dirty plates on the table, a dead fire in the grate, dusty carpet on the floor; and two red-headed, snotty-nosed boys were fighting over some marbles, tussling and rolling together as they kicked and punched, with scant regard for either the furniture or adult limbs.

It was their father on whom Connie's attention most focused, though. With the light coming in through the parlour windows, she could see how thin and old he looked, his cheeks sunken in and his face a waxen yellow-tinged colour, that made her heart sink with foreboding.

Studying him, she felt as though a giant fist was clenching around her heart. The nurse in her had recognised the dread symptoms of the worst kind of incurable disease, as swiftly as the daughter in her wanted to reject it.

In peacetime, Mr Clegg had regularly operated to remove the tumours from patients afflicted with similar symptoms to her father, but no amount of cutting out the cancer that was clamped to their vital organs could ever prolong their lives for very long.

As though in confirmation of what she was thinking, their father started to cough, supporting
himself against the wall as he did so, a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead as he tried to massage his chest.

Immediately a furious, bitter anger filled Connie. Couldn't Ellie see how desperately ill he was? Couldn't she have done something?

Give over you two.' Neither boy acknowledged the command, and it was left to John to pull them apart, saying briskly, All right, that's enough.'

‘Where's your mother?' Their father asked breathlessly.

In bed restin' and there's nowt for us supper. Ma said as ‘ow you was to go out and get us some pies.'

Connie winced as she heard the rough accent, sharply aware of their own mother's fastidiousness in such matters.

‘Ere let go o' me, you.' The taller boy wiped his runny nose on the back of his sleeve and aimed another kick at the smaller, who immediately howled and bit his arm.

‘Jerry, Jack!'

Whatever Ellie might have been about to say to their half-brothers was lost as there was a thumping sound from overhead, followed by a screeched, Stop that racket, you bloody little varmints.'

Both boys exchanged wary looks whilst their father forced an embarrassed smile in his elder offspring's direction, and apologised, Maggie is a bit out o' sorts …'

It's the stout. Allus gives her a bad head, it does,'

the elder of the two boys explained knowingly, whilst a dark flush stained their father's thin face and a look of shame shadowed his eyes.

Connie's heart went out to him, and immediately she went over to him and kissed his withered cheek.

‘Ere, ‘oo the hell are you?'

The woman coming down the stairs was as fat as her husband was thin, panting and struggling for breath as she eased her bulk down their narrowness.

‘Maggie, it's Connie come to visit with John and Ellie.

Immediately the small eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘Oh, it's that fancy pants lot is it, and what might you be wantin'?'

‘We've just come round to see Father, Maggie,' John answered her calmly. ‘I've just got a couple of days leave and …

‘Just to see him, eh? she interrupted John sourly. ‘Well that's a change … Putting on airs and graces you might be now, Missie, but I haven't forgotten how you come here beggin and pleading. This last remark was addressed to Ellie.

Astonished, Connie turned to look at her sister who had gone pale.

‘That's enough, Maggie.

Just for a minute it was the old Robert Pride speaking, the father and man Connie remembered.

‘It's wonderful to see the three of you! There were tears in his eyes as he turned toward them.

‘'Eard as how you was carrin' and widowed!' Maggie told Connie, ignoring her husband to come and stand between him and the three of them. Soldier, was he?' she demanded speculatively.

Maggie, why don't you go and put the kettle on and then we can all sit down and have a chat over a cup of tea,' Robert Pride was suggesting eagerly, but Ellie shook her head and answered him hastily, There's no need for that, Dad. We can see that you're busy.'

Bloody well should be. Bloody well oughta be in the shop and not up ‘ere wastin' time!' Maggie announced aggressively. He's fathered four brats on me ‘e has, and he's got no business wastin' time on you lot as is grown and gone, when ‘e oughta be workin' to feed them.'

Connie's heart ached for her father, and she didn't argue when, after a few more minutes' conversation, Ellie suggested that they left.

It was their father who showed them downstairs, ignoring Connie's anxious protest that he stay where he was since they knew the way. Connie noticed how John slipped some guineas into their father's hand, and closed his fingers over them when their father would have protested.

Connie was reluctant to leave, but she had no option other than to follow her sister and brother.

‘Ellie, how can you leave Father there like that, surely you can see how unwell he is,' she demanded accusingly.

There's no call to speak to Ellie like that,
Connie, John objected. ‘She's done her best, but Dad has his pride, and anyway, Maggie …'

‘How could he take up with someone like that after Mother? The shock of her father's decline had resurrected old pains and bitterness.

‘He was lonely without us, John replied quietly.

‘Yes, and whose fault is that?' she broke in emotionally as her feelings overwhelmed her. ‘I begged you to leave our Aunt and Uncle Parkes, Ellie, so that we could all go back home, but what was happening to Father and the rest of us didn't matter to you did it?

‘Connie, please, Ellie begged her with tears in her eyes. ‘You don't understand …

‘I understand that you broke your promise to me, Connie told her sadly.

‘Connie, that's enough!' Suddenly John, her younger brother, looked both older and sterner. ‘You've no right to speak to Ellie like that, and anyway -'

‘It's all right, John, Ellie stopped him quietly. ‘Naturally Connie's upset to see the deterioration in Father … Gideon and I do what we can, Connie, but Dad has his pride as John says. She gave a rueful smile. ‘Pride by name and Pride by nature, that's what he used to say to us when we were growing up, wasn't it? And besides, you can see how Maggie is for yourself. She persuaded Dad to mortgage the shop a couple of years ago, and if she thinks Dad has money … Ellie stopped. ‘Gideon is paying for both the older boys to get a decent
education. I shouldn't say this but, according to Uncle Will, the younger two may not even be Father's …'

‘Ellie, I'm not talking about giving Dad money! He's ill … very ill.' Connie shook her head in frustration as she saw the look her brother and sister were exchanging. He needs to see a doctor. And, if I'm right about what I'm thinking …' Connie's eyes filled with tears which welled over and spilled onto her cheeks. It should never have been like this! You got what you wanted, Ellie, but the rest of us had to pay the price. Dad … me …

Philip …'

They had reached Winckley Square and, too overwrought to say anything more, as soon as they were inside the house, Connie started to head straight to her room. But she turned on the stairs as she heard John's muttered, You've got to tell her, Ellie.'