Lakeland Lily (17 page)

‘Wouldn’t know how.’

‘I know someone. Dab hand with glass he is.’

‘Can’t pay the blighter. Clean pockets, old chap,’ Bertie said, ruefully smiling as if it were of no consequence.

‘You can pay me back later.’

‘Jolly decent of you. Won’t forget.’ But of course he would, and they both knew it.

Laughing, Nathan shook his head, unable to understand a man who could have everything and settled for nothing. But then, he didn’t have quite nothing, did he? He had Lily.

Winter was not the best time to work on a fish stall. As the cold deepened Lily cut up an old pair of ribbed stockings. Two halves she pulled over the tops of her clogs to help keep her feet dry, the other two were for her hands, leaving the fingers free to gut and fillet the fish. Sometimes they were that cold she felt sure they’d drop off.

She wore a pinafore over her jumper and skirt, and a cardigan and thick coat over that. Finally she draped a sack over her shoulders to keep the worst of the rain off. Even so she was often wet and frozen to the bone.

Working behind the bar in the Cobbles Inn, for all the stink of old straw on the floor and thick pipe smoke in the fetid air, was almost a pleasure after that, if only for its warmth. Though what her mother-in-law would think if she knew, Lily didn’t care to imagine. Women rarely set foot in a public house, let alone worked in one. Not decent women. Nor would she even have considered it if Jim the landlord weren’t a friend, Bertie useless, and herself near desperate.

She ate her sandwiches and drank her bottle of cold tea at dinnertime, listening to Rose chattering away as usual about Nan’s ‘friends’.

‘She gets worse. Stands at the doorway beckoning ‘em in now, she does. Still, we have to eat, I suppose.’

‘Has she ever - well, you know?’

Rose frowned, and then her small face cleared as she laughed. ‘What, asked me to join in? No fear. She knows I’ve more sense. I’ll have to move out if she doesn’t stop. Anyroad, it’s ages since you came to visit us in Fossburn Street.’

Lily admitted this to be true. ‘When I’m not working, Bertie likes me at home with him.’

‘That’s a bit of a rum do.’

‘He hates to be left alone too much.’

‘Not ashamed of us, are you?’ Head tilted, Rose challenged her to deny it.

‘Don’t be silly.’ But the accusation had made Lily feel uncomfortable. ‘I’ll come over one evening next week, all right?’

‘Fetch Bertie an’ all. Me mam’ll keep him company while we have a natter.’ They both giggled, amused by the thought of Nan with Bertie. Lily thought she should be glad really, that Rose had asked her. She found it oddly lonely, being married.

By four o’clock they’d thankfully sold the last of the fish and vegetables. It was dark even then, and they were all shivering with cold. Rose went off home to Fossburn Street. Lily wiped down the stall while Liza swept all around, then gathering up the empty baskets, they set off for home. Lily had managed to buy a few cracked eggs cheap, and meant to take them to her mother on the way. Hannah needed them more than she did at present.

They’d not had a bad day though. With Christmas coming up folk were prepared to spend. But profits were still down. When she could, Lily bought fish from Flookburgh and Whitehaven to add to what her father caught, in order to make a decent income. Even then it was cutting it fine. Arnie did his best, of course, with what bit of boatbuilding he could find. And at least he no longer had the boys to worry about. Jacob had gone to work for a shipbuilder in Liverpool, and Matt was in Fleetwood where the fishing was better. But there were still the three girls to feed and Hannah to care for.

Lily found her mother in bed, as usual these days, one or two old coats piled on top of the thin crocheted blankets in an effort to keep her warm.

The curtained portion of the room once occupied by her two brothers seemed oddly bare without them, and Lily felt a pang of regret for their robust strength. Yet she was glad they were out of this Godforsaken place, glad they at least had a chance in life.

Emma was trying to coax Hannah to try a taste of watery soup, but she kept pausing to cough up blood into a rag that should long since have been put in the wash. Lily found her a fresh one, her heart clenching with pain at the sight of more ominously soiled rags on the bedside table. ‘Never mind that soup, Mam. See what I’ve fetched you.’ She kissed the pale face. ‘I’ll whip you up a nice egg custard. How about that?’

‘I’m sorry about all of this, our Lily.’

‘What’s to be sorry for? T’isn’t your fault.’

‘Feel’s like it is. How’s the bairn? I haven’t seen her for ages.’

‘She’s at home with Bertie. Teething, and too cold out. I’ll fetch her when you’re better.’

Hannah nodded, the bleak knowledge in her eyes that she might never get better, nor see her precious grandchild ever again. ‘Did you do well on the stall today?’

Hannah’s voice seemed to Lily more frail and weak with each passing day. It didn’t take a herbalist or doctor now to diagnose what was wrong.

‘Don’t talk. It’ll only make you cough more.’

‘I’ve felt better today,’ Hannah fiercely declared, as if she could make this true through sheer will-power, ‘I might get up tomorrow.’ Which, as Lily had predicted, set off a fit of coughing which took some time to ease.

While Emma tended to her mother, Lily put the rags to soak in salt water and tore up some
 
fresh ones from an old flour sack. Back in the kitchen she faced her father. ‘Mam needs a doctor.’

Arnie grunted.

‘Have you been paying into the club like I told you?’

‘I paid what I could, when I could. It’s all used up.’

‘What d’you mean, it’s all used up?’

‘Our credit. We’ve none left.’

‘Surely you could manage a penny a week? Mam needs a doctor.’

Arnie gazed upon his daughter with bleak eyes and Lily felt sick, guessing what was to come. ‘I’ve not even a penny to buy a twist of tea. I’ve been laid off from the boatyard. Boss says I’m never there when he needs me. Allus out on t’fishing or taking care of Hannah.’ He sat down like a man exhausted, gazing up at the ceiling as if he could see his wife through it. ‘I don’t know what else to do, our Lily. I’m at me wit’s end. I love yer mam, you know I do. I don’t seem to have the energy to go on wi’out her.’

‘Oh, Dad.’ She went to him and held him close while he sobbed on to her shoulder. It was the most painful experience of her life. How could her father have come to this? Arnie Thorpe was strong, always had been. A good and kindly man. And here he was, a pitiful wreck, his heart broken with grief. ‘Have you enquired about the sanatorium?’ She felt his body stiffen.

‘She’ll die if she goes there.’

Lily knew her mother would die if she didn’t go, but couldn’t find it in her heart to say so.

‘No, she won’t. She’d get the care she needs. I’ll see what I can find out.’ Again she held her father close, fighting the tears blocking her own throat. It wouldn’t do for them both to break down. ‘If The Cobbles wasn’t such a filthy place, happen fewer people would get consumption. And we know who to blame for that, now don’t we?’

‘Aw, Lily, don’t start on that caper now,’ Arnie chided, blowing his nose and trying to regain his composure. ‘There’s naught we can do.’

Oh, but there should be, she thought.

Lily did the best she could to make Hannah comfortable, though she managed little of the egg custard, then brewed Arnie a mug of sweet tea and cuddled her distressed sisters, offering what advice and comfort she could.

‘I’ll have to go. I’ve me own family to see to.’

Emma’s face was pinched and frightened. She it was who carried the burden of caring for Hannah, taking more time off school than she should. ‘You’ll come tomorrow as usual, Lily?’

‘Course I will. Do I ever miss? I’ll bring you summat good to eat.’ How she would manage to keep such a reckless promise Lily couldn’t at the moment imagine. But she meant to, come what may.

‘Will you fetch me a bull’s eye, our Lily?’

‘I will, Kitty. If I have to catch the animal meself.’

Kitty giggled. ‘I meant a toffee ball.’

‘Oh!’ Lily pretended surprise. ‘That’s different. We’ll have to see if I’m passing Mrs Robbins’s shop then, won’t we?’

‘You pass it every day.’

‘Aye, usually with an empty pocket. Still, we’ll see what tomorrow brings. Now keep your peckers up, the lot of you. You do Mam no good pulling long faces.’

But as she hurried away, Lily’s own heart was heavy. Hannah had devoted her life to caring for her family. Nothing had ever been too good for them. Not for her children the bad teeth and bare feet so common among the chronically poor. She’d toiled to provide the best food she could manage, even if it was too often only stinking fish. There was no better food for the brain, she’d told them.

The rain started again as Lily strode down Carter Street. She pulled the sacking close about her neck, less vigour than usual in her stride. Her body felt bone weary, a hundred years old.

As she turned the corner into Mallard Street, she was surprised to see a group of men outside her own cottage, then recognised one of them. Nathan Monroe. What was he up to?

When Lily reached the men and took in what had happened, the smashed window with glass everywhere, rain pouring in all over her table top, Amy screaming like a banshee, life was suddenly too much. A bolt of fury shot through her and she lashed out at Nathan Monroe without stopping to think.

‘What the bleedin’ hell have you done now, you wicked bully?’ Her arms flailed, hands slapping whatever bare flesh she could reach while Nathan defended himself as best he could. Then hands were gripping her, Nathan’s hands, hard on her arms, and Bertie’s voice high with panic.

‘Leave him be, Lily. He’s
helping
,
not attacking us.’

But instead of simply stopping, she broke down in tears, and for a while it seemed as if she would never stop.

When Lily heard the whole sorry story she was forced to offer an apology to Nathan, for all she did so with bad grace. In her eyes he would never be anything but trouble. Lily hated everything about him: his broad handsome face, untidy brown hair and fierce brows. And the deep grooves etched between nose and wide mouth, even if that mouth did smile at her with disturbing good humour whenever she happened to glance his way. Most of all she hated his brooding blue eyes, which she didn’t care even to think about.

‘Bertie was managing to stand up for himself very well, as a matter of fact,’ Nathan was saying. ‘But he was a touch outnumbered.’

‘Though not outclassed. What a lark!’ Bertie agreed with a grin. ‘The way you ploughed into them, tossing them aside like bobbins!
And I bloodied at least one nose, I can tell you. Rather like being back at school.’

Lily stared at her young husband and wondered if he’d the least idea what he was saying. Those youths, unlike his public school chums, would have thought nothing of beating him to a pulp. For that reason alone she should be grateful to Nathan Monroe for intervening. ‘What was it all about, anyroad?’

‘I don’t think they cared for my new hat,’ Bertie remarked, with his usual air of unconcern.

‘Hat? What new hat?’

He held up the battered item. ‘No good now, old thing. Have to chuck it.’

For a whole half minute Lily couldn’t speak. Then she flew to the cupboard and pulled out the battered tea caddy where she hid her savings. She gave it a quick rattle and breathed a sigh of relief.

Utterly shocked, he said, ‘I wouldn’t take your money, Lily,’ while Nathan studiously kept a blank face. A fact which infuriated Lily all the more.

‘How did you pay for it then?’

‘On Mama’s account, old thing. She’ll never notice. Had to have one. Winter coming and all that.’

Lily stared helplessly at him, letting the anger drain from her body. What was the use? Their child needed food in her belly. Rent had to be paid. Her own mother might die of consumption but Bertie bought a new hat. The right clothes for the right occasion was too much a part of his life-style for him ever to understand hers. It was a wonder he didn’t still change for dinner.

Lily slapped jam on a few thin slices of bread and made a great show of carefully scraping off the excess, while grudgingly issuing an invitation for Nathan to stay to tea, fully expecting him to refuse.

‘Glad to,’ he said, lifting the soup pan on to the hob when he saw it was too heavy for her to manage. ‘I could do with a bite after this afternoon’s adventures.’ The two men exchanged a look of silent agreement that no mention should be made of the whisky drinking session.

Lily doled out sparse portions of hot soup, wanting to save some for her family the next day, as promised. She followed it with the jam and bread and a mug of tea each. The meal may have been poor, but while Lily sat silent was nonetheless merry so far as the two men were concerned, as they recounted the joys of the afternoon.

‘Did you see that rascal’s face when you popped him one?’ Bertie chortled. ‘He wondered where on earth you’d sprung from.’