Copper Kingdom (24 page)

‘That's my daughter there, Sally,' she smiled. ‘Working down at the Canal Street Laundry, she is, good job too, mind.'

‘Yes, she's very pretty.' Even to her own ears, her voice sounded strange and Bea put a trembling hand up to her mouth. ‘I'm sorry,' she said, ‘it's just that I feel so . . .' The words trailed away as Mrs Benson began to set instruments out on a tray.

‘There's a silly girl, don't I know how bad you must be feeling? Come on, chin up, you'll be all right so don't worry about a thing.'

She pointed to a screen in the corner of the room. ‘Go behind there and take your underdrawers and your stockings off if you please. No need to be shy, I've seen so many tuppences in my life that I've lost count.'

Her motherly cheerfulness was reassuring and Bea quickly did as she was bid, telling herself it would soon be over and then she could start to pick up the pieces of her life again.

When she was ready, Bea stood uncertainly waiting for the midwife to call her to the table that was covered in a white pristine cloth. Suddenly the enormity of the situation overwhelmed her and she wrapped her arms around her stomach as though to protect her unborn child. A pointless and stupid act if ever there was one.

‘Come on, over here if you please, that's right, let me help you up. Good, now lay back and try to be easy, let yourself go loose, that's a good girl, don't fight me now.'

Bea lay back and stared up at the cracks in the whitewashed ceiling, trying to detach herself from what was happening, but her heart was beating so furiously that she felt she would choke.

Mrs Benson sighed. ‘Quite a few months gone, aren't you dear? You really should have come to me sooner but don't worry, we'll cure everything, you'll see.'

Bea closed her eyes, in a sudden and terrifying panic. She heard the scrape of instruments against the metal tray and did not even want to imagine what might be happening.

She longed to scream out for Mrs Benson to cease her ministrations, she did not want to continue this terrible nightmare. But she remained tight-lipped and silent, for what was the alternative, and had she not gone over and over it all in her mind on countless sleepless nights?

‘This may hurt a little but it will soon be finished, there's a good brave girl, aren't you? That's right, keep quite still.'

From outside the window Bea heard the sweet sharp note of a bird in song; her heart contracted in pain and she wondered if she would ever get over the experience she was forcing herself to endure now.

Mrs Benson had moved away and was washing her hands in a basin nearby. Bea looked up at her questioningly. ‘Is it all over?' she asked.

‘Bless your innocence! No, it's not quite over girl, there'll be some bleeding but it's nature's way, nothing to worry about. Keep this bowl at your side and call me if you need me.'

Left alone, Bea lay on the hardness of the table and tried to keep calm. There was nothing to worry about, hadn't Mrs Benson said so? And she did this sort of thing all the time. Yet in spite of herself, tears welled in her eyes, she had never been so alone and unhappy in all her life.

The midwife returned after a time with a cup of steaming tea. Bea gulped it gratefully for her throat still ached with the effort not to cry. The liquid was hot and sweet and soothing and Bea began to feel a little better.

‘That's right, drink it all down. It won't be long now, girl, just you be brave and we'll soon have you on your feet again.'

Bea looked at her imploringly. ‘What is going to happen now?' she asked.

‘It will all come away from you, of course,' Mrs Benson said gently. ‘Just keep the bowl near you and use it when the time comes. I won't be far away, so don't worry your little head about anything.'

Then Bea was alone once more, staring at the whitewashed walls. The only window was covered by a heavy curtain that gaped a little. Through the aperture Bea could see a tiny sliver of back garden and to her surprise the sun was still shining. Yet she felt as though she had been in the small house in Canal Street for hours.

She turned her head restlessly and began to sit up. Suddenly, she could scarcely breathe for the pain that was beginning low in her stomach. Sweat broke out on her forehead and she remained motionless, afraid to move lest she would do herself some damage.

The pain was growing larger and soon it seemed to become the centre of her universe. She moaned softly in her fear as a strange sensation caught her and she was forced to bear down.

She placed the bowl in position, her hands trembling. She took a deep ragged breath trying to summon the strength to call Mrs Benson. She groaned low in her throat and looked downwards and to her horror, the bowl was no longer empty.

The foetus was perfect, no bigger than the palm of Bea's hand. Minute arms and legs were splayed as though in distress. Bea's heart constricted and she felt violently sick. She closed her eyes but the image remained to haunt her. She felt faint and must have called out in her pain for the door opened and the midwife bustled into the room.

‘That's all right dear, come on, give it to me now.' Bea became aware that her hand still grasped the bowl and it took all the older woman's strength to prise it away from her.

A red haze was floating behind Bea's closed lids. Nothing was real, the horror was only a nightmare from which she would awake. But now she was tired, she must sleep and what did it matter if the world was slipping away from her?

How Bea had got home she did not afterwards clearly remember. There had been a vague awareness of Mrs Benson and a girl whom she called Sally, helping her into a small cart that smelled sickeningly of fish even though a rough blanket had been laid against the planking. The ride seemed to go on interminably and she – half fainting, half waking – felt every rut and bump on the roadway. She heard Mrs Benson speaking and had to strain to catch her words.

‘Never seen one like this before, nothing gone wrong with her, not lost a lot of blood, only what's normal like but she's having such a bad attack of the vapours, must be her delicate upbringing I spects, not hardly like the usual girls who come to me.'

‘Well you've done all you can, Mam.' The voice was rough and harsh and Bea withdrew into herself, instinctively disliking the girl whose face swam before her eyes.

At least the midwife had the sense to take the carriage round the back of the house and as fortune had it, Bertha came to the door.

‘Oh my dear God, Miss Bea.' The maid supported her while Mrs Benson made hurried explanations.

‘Taken poorly she was, right afterwards, nothing gone wrong, it's just the shock of it all I suppose.'

‘Right,' Bertha spoke firmly. ‘I'll get her to her bed and look after her, never fear.'

It was a relief to be in her room with the fire roaring in the grate for by now Bea was shivering uncontrollably. She felt Bertha lower her onto the bed and begin to take off her clothes, murmuring sympathetically all the while.

‘You'll be just fine after a good sleep Miss Bea. I'll see to you, don't you worry. You need good red wine and plenty of beetroot to build up your blood again and before you know it, you'll be the same as you was before.'

Bea sighed heavily, leaning her cheek against the pillow, feeling herself sinking into the softness of her own bed. She might grow well and strong again but she would never be the same again, ever.

Bertha proved to be an invaluable friend and a dedicated nurse in the days that followed Bea's visit to Mrs Benson. Neither of them spoke of the matter and it was almost as though her ordeal had never happened, Bea thought sadly, except that the sight of the tiny perfect child haunted her mind, waking and sleeping, and she knew she would never be free of the memory.

James came to see her every day, readily accepting the story that she had been struck down with a summer chill. One morning he sat beside her, his eyes anxious as he held her cold fingers in his strong hands.

‘My dear girl,' he said softly, ‘I don't think I have ever told you just how much I need you and appreciate you. Since your mother died there's been no one close to me; perhaps that's my own fault. But seeing you sickly like this makes me realise how very fortunate I am to have such a devoted daughter.'

Bea smiled up at him, trying for his sake to be cheerful. ‘You're a young man yet, Daddy,' she said, ‘you should go out and about more, meet people, you might well marry again, you'd be a catch for any woman.'

James was gruff in his pleased embarrassment. ‘Maybe you're right, Bea, I suppose I have allowed myself to become a bit of a hermit over the years and one day you'll be finding a fine young man to marry, which is only right and proper. Perhaps I shall begin to invite people here again, perhaps hold a ball at Christmas time, we shall see.'

As the days passed into weeks, Bea's strength gradually returned, she still kept to the house, even though the summer sun was pouring hot and strong through the long windows. She did not feel that she could face people, not yet, and so she remained at home, sitting in her chair, staring out into the softly scented gardens.

It was Bertha who coaxed her into going for a walk in the grounds. ‘Please, Miss Bea, I'll come with you.' Her young face was eager, her eyes alight with affection and Bea's throat constricted.

‘Just a moment,' she went to her jewel box and took out a small cameo that had been one of her mother's gifts to her. ‘Have this, Bertha, it's my way of saying thank you, so don't refuse.'

It was so fresh and so balmy in the gardens with the bees droning between the roses and birds swooping overhead that Bea suddenly knew how good it was to be alive. She sat on the small wooden seat under the arbour of roses and breathed in the scents of summer as eagerly as a thirsty man drinks water.

‘Miss Bea,' Bertha's voice sounded low in her ear, ‘you've got visitors.' The maid stepped back a pace or two and Bea, glancing up, was startled to see her father leading someone across the soft green lawns towards her. Her heart plummeted in her breast and her hands began to shake as she recognised the tall figure walking alongside James.

‘Sterling.' She breathed his name and somehow found the courage to smile in welcome. Then he was seating himself beside her, capturing her hands within his, and unbidden came the ironic memory of him saying that he and she were as close as brother and sister.

‘Bea, I'm sorry you've been laid up with a chill, I hope you're feeling better now, though I must say you're still looking very pale.'

James stood over them, his face closed and set and Bea understood him for the first time. She could even pity her father for carrying the knowledge within him that he could never claim his only son.

‘I'm going back into the house,' James said, speaking carefully. ‘Sterling has brought his mother on a visit and I'd better not leave her alone for too long, I don't wish to seem unwelcoming. Will you be all right dear, there's no point in tiring yourself out?'

Bea looked up at him. ‘Of course I'll be all right father,' she said reprovingly. ‘You know that Sterling and I have always been good friends, he's just like part of the family. You go and keep Aunt Victoria company by all means, I'm sure you two must have a great deal to talk about.' She could not keep the edge of bitterness from her voice and yet how could she blame her father for what had happened many years ago. How could he possibly have known the terrible repercussions his actions would cause?

Bertha hovered protectively behind the seat, out of earshot but within calling distance should her mistress require her services. Bertha knew nearly everything about Bea's association with Sterling for she was a bright girl and had missed nothing on the trips she had made with Miss Bea into town. She was an accomplice, and yet without possession of the truth, she could only assume that Mr Sterling had let her mistress down badly.

Bea untwined her fingers from Sterling's grip. ‘It's very nice of you to come.' She knew she was speaking stiffly as though he was a stranger but the urge to fall into his arms and cry out her anguish was almost overwhelming. She looked away from him and across the sloping gardens that led down to the sea, trying to steel herself. She must be strong for she would inevitably meet with Sterling almost every day of her life unless one or the other of them moved away from the closed society of Sweyn's Eye.

‘I've come to apologise for what happened at the hotel and to make amends.' Sterling's voice was vibrant as he leaned closer to her. ‘Bea, I'm very fond of you. What I'm trying to say is, I'd like you to be my wife.'

Bea fought the hysterical laughter that rose up within her, the very words she had longed to hear from Sterling's lips had come too late. She turned to him, trying to keep her expression bright but unreadable.

‘Sterling,' she spoke his name chidingly, ‘you know as well as I do that we're not meant for each other, I'm very fond of you too but fondness is not passion, is it?'

He leaned towards her and kissed her cheek lightly before she could turn away. Her heart began to beat uncomfortably fast, for his nearness was affecting her, arousing the very passions that she denied feeling for him.

‘I thought we suited each other very well in that direction, Bea,' he said softly. ‘Don't turn me down without thinking about what I've said very carefully.'

‘Have you spoken to my father about this?' she asked him abruptly and relief poured through her as she saw him shake his head.

‘No, I think you're old enough to make up your own mind about something as important as marriage.' Sterling took her hand in his once more and she allowed her fingers to rest impassively in his.