The River Folk (39 page)

‘Wait a minute, miss. I’ll ask Cook.’

The girl looked flustered, wondering why someone dressed as poorly as Lizzie and coming to the back entrance should be asking to speak to the young master and calling him ‘Lawrence’ in such a familiar way too. Understanding the girl’s dilemma, Lizzie smiled to herself as she realized her own mistake. She should have walked boldly up to the main entrance, where the door would no doubt have been opened by a manservant.

‘Come in, please, miss. Cook says she’ll have a word with you.’

Lizzie stepped into the warm kitchen, where the smell of freshly baking bread was like a heady perfume.

‘So,’ the cook began without preamble. ‘You’re her daughter, are you? Setting your cap at the young master like your mother before you, eh?’

Lizzie drew herself up. ‘Is that any of your business?’

‘Oho, Miss Hoity Toity. Just like your mother, aren’t you? You even look like her. Well, she came to a bad end, didn’t she? And you will, an’ all. You mark my words. And yes, anything that goes on in this house is my business. When your mother worked here, she caused us all a lot of trouble. I got a right roasting from Miss Edwina for not having kept me eye on her. I’ll never forget that. So you can turn yourself about and get out of my kitchen.’

Lizzie glanced about her. There were several doors leading out of the kitchen, presumably to pantries and cellars and store cupboards, but which one, she wondered, led to the upper part of the house?

‘Do you hear me? If you know what’s good for you, you’ll be on your way and . . .’

At that moment one of the doors opened and a man, dressed like a butler, appeared. Lizzie sprang forward, dodged beneath his outstretched arm and was through the door before anyone could scarcely draw breath.

She entered a vast hall and stood a moment to stare around her in fascination. Then, behind her, she heard the sound of the man following her and she hurried on again, running the length of the room. She scampered along passages and up staircases, her heart thumping and yet she was enjoying the game of hide and seek. It was a wonderful old house, with nooks and crannies and plenty of hiding places. How the children of the house must have loved their games within its walls, she thought. What fun, what glorious fun life must be like to live in a place like this.

Her pace was slower now, for she had given the butler, or whoever he was, the slip and now she had time to peep into the rooms on either side and to marvel at the solid furniture and oil paintings hanging on the walls. In one room, she saw an embroidered wall hanging.

‘Miss Edwina’s been busy,’ she murmured to herself, and then a door at the end of the passage opened.

‘Lizzie.’ She heard his voice and turned to see him coming towards her, his arms outstretched.

She ran to him and threw herself against him. ‘Oh Lawrence, I had to come. Please don’t be angry.’

‘Angry? My darling, I’m delighted. I couldn’t think how to get to see you, if you were being held prisoner by the dragon.’

‘The . . .?’ she began. ‘Lawrence, please, don’t call my gran that. She’s wonderful, really. It’s just that she doesn’t think . . .’

‘I know, I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude towards her. But they won’t listen to us, will they?’

The manservant was hurrying down the corridor towards them. ‘Master Lawrence, I’m so sorry you’ve been troubled. I really don’t know what Cook was thinking of to even let a gypsy woman into the house.’ His voice was harsh as he spoke now directly to Lizzie. ‘Come along, young woman . . .’

He was already stretching out his hand to take hold of her by the shoulder when Lawrence put up his hand. ‘It’s quite all right, Deakin. Miss Ruddick is a friend of mine.’ Pointedly, he added, ‘A very good friend. In fact, if I have my way, she could well be your future mistress at The Hall.’

For a moment, the man’s face was a picture, and it was a credit to his professionalism that he managed with a supreme effort to mask his feelings, give a little bow and say, obsequiously, ‘I am so sorry, sir. I had not realized. Pray forgive my intrusion.’

He turned away and marched, stiff backed, down the corridor whilst both Lawrence and Lizzie fought to stifle their laughter.

‘Come in here. We won’t be disturbed.’

He led her into the room at the end of the corridor. Intrigued, Lizzie glanced around. It was Lawrence’s bedroom.

‘Now my reputation will be in tatters,’ she teased, but nevertheless she allowed him to lead her to the window seat. They sat together, holding hands.

‘Oh Lizzie, let me look at you. It seems ages since I saw you.’

‘I must look a mess.’ She tried to smooth her tangled hair and scrubbed at her face. ‘No wonder he thought I was a gypsy.’

‘Darling, have you been crying?’ Tenderly, he touched her face with his fingers and then drew her into his arms.

‘They’re all against us, Lawrence, everyone. At least, everyone except your Aunt Edwina.’

‘Aunt Edwina?’

She drew back from him a little and looked up into his face. ‘She came to see my grandmother. Came to plead our cause.’

Lawrence’s eyes lit up. ‘She did?’

Lizzie nodded. ‘Yes, but she didn’t get anywhere. They . . . they fell out. After all these years, they quarrelled and I feel so guilty about us being the cause of it.’

‘They’ll get over it,’ Lawrence said, airily unconcerned. ‘But don’t let’s waste precious time talking about them. Oh Lizzie, I’ve missed you so much.’ He held her close again. ‘I want to be with you for every minute of every day.’

He stood up and pulled her to her feet. Then he was kissing her, with an urgency that made her gasp. ‘Darling . . .’ he whispered and she felt his hands begin to caress her waist. His fingers moved up to unfasten the buttons of her blouse and with his other arm he was pulling her across the room towards the canopied old-fashioned four-poster bed.

‘No, Lawrence, no.’

His eyes were ablaze with passion. ‘Why, Lizzie? Why not? I love you and we’re going to be married. We’re engaged now. Or as good as. I thought you loved me.’

‘I do, you know I do, but . . .’

‘Then prove it. Prove you love me as much as I love you. Oh, I want you so much. I’ve dreamed about this moment. Please, Lizzie . . .’

She pulled away from him, with tears of frustration. She wanted him too, just as much, but there were tears of bitter disappointment too. ‘You’re just like they said. That’s all you want. You don’t love me. Not really, or you wouldn’t ask.’

Her words were like a douse of cold water to him. ‘What do you mean? I don’t understand.’

She was crying openly now. ‘If I let you, you’d hate me afterwards.’

‘I wouldn’t. I swear I wouldn’t.’

‘Well, I’d hate myself and probably you too. I’m not going to give you or anyone else the chance to say that I’m just like my mother.’

‘Lizzie, oh Lizzie.’ She could see that his dismay was genuine as he reached out for her again, but this time only to take her gently in his arms to comfort her. ‘I’d never even think such a thing.’

Her sobs, muffled against him now, began to subside as he stroked her hair and murmured, ‘Then we’ll be married, my darling. As soon as I can arrange something, we’ll be married.’

She lifted her face to his. ‘Oh Lawrence. Darling Lawrence, you really do love me.’

As he bent his head to kiss her once more, he whispered against her mouth, ‘Never doubt it for a moment, my dearest love.’

Lizzie was lucky that neither her grandmother nor her father, when he returned home, asked her if she had seen Lawrence. She didn’t want to lie to them and, had they asked her outright, she would not have done so. She would have told them the truth. But, as they did not ask, she did not volunteer the information.

Her father, often morose and distant in the years since her mother had gone, was even more silent than usual. He very rarely smiled now and requests to her aboard ship became orders. It was as if she were merely an employed mate rather than his beloved daughter.

They made a trip to Newark where the ship was laid up for three days whilst necessary repairs and painting were carried out. Normally, her father would have suggested she stay at home, in Waterman’s Yard, but this time he insisted she went with him, and she spent a miserable three days in a small hotel in the town with nothing to do, whilst her father was busy at the boatyard. Even when he was with her, they hardly spoke to each other.

When they set sail downriver once more, it was a relief.

‘We’re going straight through to the Humber,’ her father said, ‘before we go home.’ Lizzie glanced at him, but said nothing. She could hardly ever remember a time when they had passed by Elsborough without calling. Only when they were being towed in the days before they had an engine had they not stopped.

It was all a deliberate ploy, Lizzie fumed inwardly, to keep her away from Lawrence. He would be returning to boarding school soon. His father was adamant that he should sit his higher school certificate before joining the RAF.

‘I’m not going back,’ Lawrence had told her, but Lizzie believed that, when the time came, he would have no more choice in the matter than she had in obeying her father.

The trip to Hull was uneventful and on their return home, as they neared the Miller’s Wharf, Lizzie could see her grandmother standing there.

‘Oh, not again,’ she breathed and sighed, bracing herself for more trouble. ‘I suppose she’s heard that I went to The Hall. Better get it over with, I suppose.’

No doubt, Lizzie thought to herself, Phyllis had heard the choice bit of gossip about this gypsy girl knocking at the back door of The Hall, demanding to see the young master. But as she jumped ashore and moved towards Bessie, Lizzie could see there was something dreadfully wrong. Something far worse had happened. Tears streamed down the old lady’s face and she suddenly looked even older than her sixty-six years.

Lizzie stretched out her arms towards her. ‘What is it? What’s happened? Is . . . is it Grandpa?’

Unable to speak, Bessie shook her head. She clung to Lizzie and pressed her face into the girl’s shoulder, sobs wracking her huge frame.

‘Oh Gran, darling Gran. What is it?’

‘Mam?’ Dan was beside them now.

‘It’s . . . it’s our Duggie. He’s gone. He’s lost at sea. His . . . his ship was torpedoed.’ Her voice rose to a wail of untold grief and desolation. ‘We’ve lost him, Dan. I’ve lost one of my boys. My baby.’

Dan put his arms around her and the three of them stood there clinging together, trying to find mutual comfort when nothing and no one could bring any kind of consolation. Lizzie was crying too now, ‘Oh no. Not Uncle Duggie. Please say it’s not true?’

Dan was the first to recover and said quietly, ‘Come on, love. Be strong now for your gran’s sake. Take her home and I’ll come as soon as I can.’ He looked down at his mother with such tenderness on his face that it twisted Lizzie’s heart afresh. ‘Come on, Mam. Lizzie will go home with you. Where’s me dad? Does he know?’

Her body still heaving with tearing sobs, Bessie only nodded. ‘He’s sat at home by the fire. Won’t move. Won’t say a word. And Ernie. He’s hardly said a word, either. And when he does, it’s to say summat daft, like it ought to have been him and not our Duggie. He’s just pacing up and down the yard, running his hands through his hair as if he’d like to pull it from his head.’

Dan said nothing, sparing a moment’s thought for his taciturn brother, the one they always seemed to forget. Yet Ernie had been the first in their household to volunteer, only to be turned down by the medical board.

‘You’ll have to be strong, Mam. You always have been.’

Bessie shook her head. ‘Not this time, lad. I’m done for. I’m too old to take any more. Mary Ann going fair broke me heart, but this . . .’

Her tears were unceasing as Lizzie helped her homewards. Bessie leant so heavily on her that the girl felt as if she were almost carrying her. But she was strong physically and now she had to be strong emotionally for all their sakes, for the woman who had always been the rock in their midst, the one to whom everyone, family and neighbours alike, had always turned in their troubles, was shattered and heartbroken.

When they entered Waterman’s Yard, Ernie was nowhere to be seen, but Minnie rushed forwards. ‘Oh Bessie, we’ve just heard. We’re so sorry.’ She dissolved into tears and covered her face with her apron.

‘Thank you, Mrs Eccleshall,’ Lizzie said. ‘But I just want to get Gran home.’

‘Of course, love. But if there’s anything I can do, you’ve only to say. Oh, it’s dreadful. It really is.’ And she wailed afresh.

But what was there she could do? Lizzie thought sadly, as she helped Bessie, stumbling, across the yard. What was there any of them could do?

Amy Hamilton was standing by the door of Bessie’s home, her arms folded across her thin chest. ‘Well, Bessie Ruddick, now you know, don’t you? Now you know how it feels.’

Feeling a shudder run through Bessie and hearing her groan, Lizzie braced herself as her grandmother leant even more heavily against her. Anger flooded through Lizzie and gave her a fresh spurt of strength. ‘Excuse us, Mrs Hamilton, if you please,’ she said with icy politeness. ‘I want to get Gran into the house.’

Amy, with a strange look of surprise on her face, stared at Bessie, but she stood aside as Lizzie manoeuvred Bessie through the door and the scullery and into the kitchen.

‘Sit down, Gran. I’ll mash us a pot of tea.’

‘I’ll do it,’ a voice said behind her, and Lizzie turned in surprise to see that Amy had followed them into the house.

‘There’s no need for you to trouble yourself, Mrs Hamilton . . .’ she began, but the woman cut her short. ‘There’s every reason, lass. Every reason, but you wouldn’t understand.’

Surprise robbed Lizzie momentarily of speech, and she sat down suddenly beside her grandmother, staring at Amy, who was busying herself about Bessie’s kitchen and back scullery as if she were in her own house. Lizzie’s glance went then to her grandfather sitting in his chair by the range. He looked in a worse state than her grandmother did, Lizzie thought, anguished. She felt helpless in the face of such grief. Her own sorrow was bad enough, but to see these two dear people so devastated broke Lizzie’s young heart. It would have been bad enough for one of them to lose the other, their life’s partner, but to lose one of their children went against nature. It wasn’t the right order of things.