Goodnight Lady (11 page)

‘How are your own charitable works, my dear?’ he asked Isabel.

She looked at him and smiled. This was going even better than she’d expected. She knew her father was only asking her the question to force the issue with Henry.

‘I still work with Mrs Prosser Evans, of course, though I am thinking seriously of joining Mother’s Little Band of Helpers. I feel that the child prost — I mean, the poor children, really need a guiding hand.’

Molly and Mrs Horlock had finally agreed and both women were relieved. After the initial bout, where each woman had carefully sized up the other, they had realised their common goal and were now co-conspirators.

Both had one end in mind: the removal of Briony’s child. Molly pushed her hair back from her flushed face and drew her legs away from the kitchen fire so she could face the older woman head on.

‘But isn’t that dangerous? I mean, Briony wouldn’t die or anything?’

Mrs Horlock shrugged her shoulders. ‘There’s always the possibility of death, Mrs Cavanagh. Even if she went through with the birth. But Dr Carlton has been used by the richest in London. We’re not talking about a filthy back room and an ignorant old woman.’

Molly nodded. ‘I suppose you’re right, but it seems so brutal somehow. Briony’s only a child herself.’

Mrs Horlock smiled slightly.

‘And a very lovely child she is too. She’s a credit to you, Mrs Cavanagh.’

Molly took this compliment with a nod of her head.

‘It was her father who brought her here, you know. And my Eileen. I was against it from the start... When I think of my poor Eileen, how she’s suffered ...’

Mrs Horlock put a hand on her arm, and squeezed it gently. ‘Would you like a drop of the hard? I keep some down here for emergencies.’

She got up and, taking a bottle of whisky from the pantry, made two strong hot toddies. Molly watched her spooning in sugar generously and decided she could like the older woman, given more time.

‘So I’ll talk to the master tonight then?’ Mrs Horlock’s voice broke into her thoughts.

Molly sipped her drink. ‘Yes. Do you think I should take her home with me?’

Mrs Horlock shook her head.

‘No. Definitely not. The master needs to be reminded of his obligations, if you get my drift. I wouldn’t advise taking the child from under his nose just yet.’

Molly and the older woman found once more they were in accord and, raising their glasses, pledged a silent toast.

 

Henry looked down at the child in the bed and felt a sickness in his stomach. Suddenly, her little elfin face had taken on harsh lines and her abundant red hair seemed vulgar in the extreme. His father-in-law was right in one thing he had said earlier: these children would turn the head of a saint. Now, with all the annoyance from Isabel too, he was faced with this. It took all his willpower not to raise his fist and strike the girl in the bed, venting his frustration on her for all his troubles, real and imagined. Instead he forced himself to take the tiny hand in his and smile at the child. He saw the swelling of her breasts and shuddered inwardly. In his eyes she was a woman now, and women had never been of interest to him.

‘Dr Carlton is coming tomorrow to look at you, Briony, and then all your troubles will be over.’

She stared at him with a puzzled expression.

‘What’s gonna happen, Henry?’

He gritted his teeth at the use of his Christian name. Out of bed he was Mr Dumas. This really was a liberty! But he overlooked it this time, afraid of upsetting the apple cart.

‘Oh, nothing for little girls to worry about. I’ll be in to see you after he’s been.’

Briony licked her lips and looked at the man beside her. Since the news of the baby, she had felt a change inside her. She knew what was happening to her, had seen births enough times, even helped her mother with a couple, including the birth of her dead brother. It was as if all this had turned her into an old woman. She no longer felt the childish exuberance that shielded her from the horror of nights spent with this man. Now every little thing they had ever done stood out in her mind with stark clarity. She felt his revulsion towards her, saw it in his eyes and felt it in his touch. She knew with an inner certainty that she was dead already as far as this man was concerned. That her child, the little life he had sparked, was also dead. That he wouldn’t rest until it had been dragged out of her. She also knew that she was not having any part of it.

‘I want to see Eileen and me sisters, please. Could you arrange it?’ Her voice was low but strong.

Henry cleared his throat and was about to protest when she spoke again.

‘I couldn’t understand what was wrong with our Eileen for a long time, but now I understand exactly, Henry. No amount of money is worth all this, is it?’

It was said so simply, so honestly, that he didn’t have the guts to answer her. Instead he walked from the room.

 

Dr Carlton had imbibed a generous amount of whisky and was waiting now in the morning room for a light lunch to be served before the serious business began. The old woman, Mrs Horlock, was like a cat on hot coals. He sighed. It was never a nice business this, but needs must when the devil drives. The older woman should be hardened to it by now. He remembered her from years back when she’d worked for a much more illustrious client. She’d had no qualms about holding the chit down then, while he saw to the business in hand. Got softer as she got older probably. Well, she’d need her wits about her today. He’d have a quiet word with her before the off. The girl would be nervous enough without the old woman frightening the life out of her.

He hated these jobs, but twenty pounds was twenty pounds, and who was he to sneeze at it? He got out of his seat with difficulty and poured himself another whisky. Just to fortify him. His hands were shaking again this morning, and he wondered, as he did every morning, if he was coming down with a cold.

Cissy saw his bloated, red-veined face and breathed in the whisky fumes on serving his lunch, and went straight down the stairs to give the information to Mrs Horlock.

‘He’s drunker than a Saturday night sailor! Bleeding old git!’

Mrs Horlock sighed. ‘Maybe the food’ll soak it up a bit.’ She didn’t hold out much hope. ‘Mr Dumas will be here soon anyway.’

She wiped her hands on a clean cloth and looked at the clock. It was just twelve. He was due at one and she’d made up her mind. Hadn’t she done enough to the Cavanagh family, what with Eileen and now Briony, without being part of murder as well? She was going to talk him out of the abortion.

 

Isabel, sitting outside her husband’s house in Ripple Road in a hired cab, was also waiting for him to arrive. Her hands were trembling at the thought of what she was going to do, but she took deep breaths and channelled her mind on to the job in hand. She was going to wait all day if necessary and then surprise him with her presence. She had convinced herself that by doing this, she could achieve some kind of power over him. Force him to give her a child. She had considered going to her father with her information and demanding he do something about it, but she knew it would be futile. He would never countenance a scandal of any kind. And a divorce? She laughed ruefully to herself. It would be unthinkable. His own sister had been married to a brute who had attacked her on more than one occasion. Isabel could remember, as a child, a badly beaten woman arriving in a governess cart of all things at nine in the morning, her face a bloody pulp. Her father had ordered a doctor, then given her aunt a dressing down for being a slovenly wife who had obviously asked for her husband’s hand and had got it.

No, she would have to deal with Henry himself, threaten him with her father. It was a threat that would frighten him out of his very wits. She knew her family’s social status gave her a small hold over him, and it was a thrilling feeling. If only she could control her own fear! With Henry, it did not do to let him know you were afraid of him, or indeed of anything. He hoarded that type of information away like a squirrel, dragging it out of its hiding place when the time was ripe. Oh, she’d learnt a lot from Henry Dumas. An awful lot.

She saw his cab arrive and braced herself. She would give him fifteen minutes before she entered the house.

 

Henry looked at the doctor in dismay. The man was drunk!

‘Shall we adjourn to the bedroom, Mr Dumas?’ Carlton’s voice was slurred.

Henry looked at the man quizzically. ‘Why on earth should I go up there?’

Carlton waved a hand at him. ‘Sorry, Dumas old chap, got meself a bit puddled there. Always the same with this kind of job. Nasty business.’ He’d remembered at the last minute that Henry was only there to pay him. Imagine asking him if he wanted to be there! In his drunken state this struck him as hilarious and he laughed aloud.

A silent Henry watched the doctor walk from the room with exaggerated care. He poured himself a brandy and sat down to wait. Upstairs Briony, Mrs Horlock and her mother were arguing furiously.

‘I’m not gonna let them do it, Mum. It’s wicked!’

Briony’s face was white. The strain was beginning to tell on her and Molly felt her heart go out to the child.

‘Oh, Briony, you don’t understand! What are we gonna do with another child in the house? Now your father’s gone, and your wages too ... we’ll end up back in the dockside slums.’

‘No, we won’t. I’ll think of something, Mum. Won’t I, Mrs Horlock?’

Briony turned pleading eyes on her in the hope she’d come up with something. Briony was frightened of having the child, but she was more frightened of the alternative. After Carlton had saved her from a miscarriage, it seemed evil to take the child now, why couldn’t her mother see that? And her a good Catholic as well. ‘I mean it, Mum. I’ll not let that doctor near me, I’ll ... I’ll scream the bloody house down!’

As she spoke he lurched into the room with his big black bag and three pairs of eyes looked at him.

All three registered the fact that he was roaring drunk.

‘Jesus in heaven, save us!’ Instinctively Molly crossed herself.

‘You’re drunk, man!’ Mrs Horlock reproached.

Carlton stood on his dignity. ‘Madam, I am never drunk. I had a medicinal whisky for medicinal purposes. Now if you’d be so kind as to hold down the patient, I shall begin.’

He opened up his bag and began taking out his instruments. Briony’s eyes widened to their utmost and she began to scream-high piercing screams that went through the doctor’s skull like a drill.

Both Mrs Horlock and her mother put out their hands to try and calm her. Briony, thinking they were going to hold her down, kicked out and, leaping off the bed, ran across the room, Carlton grabbed her flying hair as she passed him, and she screamed again as she was yanked backwards.

‘Let go of me, you old bastard! Let go of me, I say.’

Twisting around, she bit his arm. He let go, she opened the bedroom door and, running out, flew straight down the stairs and into the arms of a plump dark-haired lady who was standing in the hallway with Henry.

‘Oh, please don’t let them hurt me, missus! Please!’

She clung to the newcomer as her saviour. She looked kind, with those big brown eyes in a white face. Please God, Briony prayed, let her help me.

Isabel wrapped the child in gentle arms. Looking first at her husband, then at the two women and the obviously drunk man standing at the top of the stairs, she said, ‘What on earth’s going on here?’

Henry’s shoulders slumped and Briony heard a terrible groan come from him. It was as if he had been punched in the stomach with an iron fist.
_,

 

Briony was sitting on the nice lady’s lap being petted, her mother and Mrs Horlock telling her everything she wanted to know. Henry was sitting by the window on a straight-backed chair, biting his knuckles.

Isabel listened to the two women with growing amazement, every so often looking down at the fiery head laid against her breast. She knew this child should repel her, but all she felt was motherly concern. That the girl had been coerced into her situation, she had no doubt. This beautiful child with the porcelain white skin and the glass green eyes should be outside in the air playing games, not sitting in this overstuffed morning room waiting to find out if she was going to be allowed to give birth to a child she should not be carrying in the first place. Isabel looked at her husband and felt an urge to rise from her seat and fell him to the floor with one heavy blow.

What he had done here was disgusting and cruel. And all the more so because this child had been handed to him on a plate by a father who needed to feed the rest of his family. Henry played on people’s poverty, the big Bible-thumping bully!

‘What do you want, my dear?’ She looked down at Briony’s face, her voice gentle.

‘I want to have the little baby, missus. I don’t want that doctor near me.’

Isabel nodded. ‘But who will look after the baby when it arrives?’

Briony sat up straight on her lap and grinned. ‘Well, I suppose I will. I know a lot about babies, don’t I, Mum?’

Molly nodded, defeated by all that had happened.

‘That’s settled then.’ Isabel’s voice was brisk. ‘She’ll stay here, of course, until the baby comes, and then we’ll sort something out. Henry will pay the bills, don’t worry about that. I’ll see to it personally.’ Her voice was getting stronger. ‘I shall undertake to oversee everything myself. Mr Dumas will not be visiting here any more, so any belongings of his should be packed and ready for him to take with him as he leaves.’

Briony looked at her saviour’s face and smiled shyly. God had answered her prayers in the shape of Mrs Henry Dumas. Mrs Prosser Evans had been right. God was good. God was very, very good.

 

Henry waited until he knew Isabel had retired for the night before going to see her. He had eaten dinner at his club, trying to decide how to face the situation in hand. A few large brandies had given him the courage he needed but it was already failing as he listened at his wife’s door.