Wait For the Dawn (5 page)

At last, the tea had been drunk, it was five minutes past two, and it was time for her to make her leisurely way to the railway station. Emerging from the teashop, she and Mr Canbrook walked the short distance to the entrance of his shop. There he glanced in through the glass door, seeing customers standing at the counters. ‘The lads and Miss Angel are busy,’ he said. ‘I mustn’t stay out.’

Lydia thanked him for the tea, and he said what a pleasure it had been, and that he hoped he’d see her in Merinville again before too long. Lydia then took her leave of him.

Walking fairly slowly, taking her time, and pausing now and then to look in at the shop windows, she had only gone about fifty yards when she heard her name called. Turning, she saw Mr Canbrook coming towards her at a rapid pace, one hand raised to hail her. She stood and waited for him to catch up.

‘Ah, I caught you, Miss Halley,’ he said. ‘Just in time.’ He had obviously come out in a hurry, Lydia observed; he had come without his hat.

‘I seem to be making a habit of this,’ he said, ‘running after you in the street, but I had some very quick second thoughts – and I wanted to say something to you.’

Lydia nodded, waiting.

‘First of all,’ he said, ‘this is for you.’ He was holding a small, simply wrapped brown-paper package. ‘Just a little something. It’s a length of lace. Nottingham lace. Very pretty, and handmade. I thought perhaps you might be able to use it on a nightgown or a blouse or something.’

Lydia took the package from him. ‘This is so terribly kind of you, Mr Canbrook,’ she said. ‘I don’t know how to thank you.’ Carefully she laid it in her basket beside the lamp base.

‘Your pleasure is enough thanks,’ he said. He paused, as if searching for words. ‘There’s something I’m bound to ask you . . .’

‘Oh, what’s that?’

‘It’s just that . . .’ He swallowed, sighed. ‘Oh, this is very difficult for me, but – the thing is . . . Oh, listen – I wanted to ask you a question earlier, but I couldn’t get up the courage . . .’ He stumbled to a halt. Lydia kept silent. After the space of a couple of seconds he went on: ‘What I wanted to say, is . . . Oh, Miss Lydia – I hope you don’t mind me addressing you so . . . but – oh, I have to ask you: is there . . . is there some young man on your horizon? Some acquaintance of yours – some special acquaintance who is – well – someone who has a place in your heart? A special place. Oh, I know I’m a lot older than you, and for a girl like you who – well, I can’t imagine you’d see me as much of a catch. But do you have someone? If you do, tell me and I’ll never trouble you again. Do you?’

‘Mr Canbrook,’ Lydia said, ‘this is such a surprising thing to . . .’ Her words trailed to a halt. She stood with her basket in one hand and her other hand up to her cheek. ‘I don’t know what to say,’ she ended lamely.

‘Just tell me – is there someone special in your life – someone who means something to you?’

‘Well, no, there is not,’ she said. ‘But on the other hand –’

Quickly he broke in, ‘Oh, please don’t tell me you could never look at me.’ Then he fell silent, as if waiting for her to do just that. When she said nothing, he went on: ‘I want to ask – if you think it would be all right if I came to see you one day. We’ll start to get some nice days now. Perhaps you’ll be kind enough to say we might go out for a walk or something. What do you think?’ He looked at her for a moment. ‘I might be making a complete fool of myself.’ He sighed. ‘Anyway – I must let you get on your way. You must go and meet your sister.’ He started to turn, then
turned back. ‘Look – with your permission,’ he said, ‘I’ll write to you.’ With an awkward bobbing little motion of his balding head, he turned again and started back the way he had come.

Lydia was in plenty of time to meet Ryllis, and had a few minutes to kill on the platform before the train came. At last it drew in, the doors were opened, and there was Ryllis, stepping down on to the platform. Moments later the two sisters were embracing. They had not met in some weeks, not since Lydia had gone into Redbury to spend a few hours with Ryllis who had been sent into the city by her employers to do shopping.

Their coach for Capinfell was not due to leave for fifteen minutes, so they sat on a nearby bench to wait.

‘Oh, what a relief!’ Ryllis sighed, ‘to be away from Barford for a while. It’s wonderful to get away from that dreadful house and those awful people.’

‘Ryllis,’ Lydia said, ‘they surely can’t be that bad.’

‘Oh, believe me, I’ve said nothing yet – but I’m not going to sit here complaining. It’s too nice a day, and for the rest of today and tomorrow I don’t even want to think about the Lucases.’

Whereas Lydia’s voice was low in timbre, Ryllis’s had a lighter tone. She had a lighter air. Whereas Lydia could be grave and serious, Ryllis hardly ever seemed so. They were unlike in their appearance also. Where Lydia was tall and slender, Ryllis was much smaller in stature, and tended a little to a soft roundness in the curves of her limbs. Where Lydia’s straight hair was fair, so Ryllis’s curling hair was dark. There was no doubt that for straightforward prettiness Ryllis’s nose was a little too short and her full-lipped mouth a little too wide, but at the same time there were in her face a freshness and a radiance that were rarely to be matched. Sitting on the bench in the winter sunshine, in her
brown cape, and with her face framed by the frill of her bonnet, she looked the picture of health and attractiveness.

‘How is Mother?’ Ryllis asked. ‘And Father? I assume they’re all right, otherwise I would have heard.’

‘Yes, they’re both fine, and looking forward to your getting home for a while.’

‘Well, Mother maybe.’

‘Oh, Ryllis,’ Lydia frowned, ‘don’t say that. Father’s looking forward to seeing you. He just doesn’t – express things in the same way as Mother.’

‘That’s true enough.’ Ryllis sighed. ‘Well, I shall just have to try not to annoy him while I’m home. I always manage to do so in some way, it seems.’ She paused. ‘Though at some time I’ve got to have a word with him.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I want to leave the Lucases. I’ve been there well over a year and that’s long enough. I know Father isn’t going to be pleased when I tell him, but it’s
my life
, and if I want to leave a position I should be able to.’ She tapped her bag. ‘I’ve bought one of the local papers with advertisements for positions. I’ll have a look at them when I get in.’

Ryllis asked Lydia then how she had spent her time whilst waiting for the train to come in, and Lydia told her of her meeting with Mr Canbrook and going with him for tea. Ryllis sat almost open-mouthed while Lydia related the details of the meeting, and told her also of the gift of the lace and Mr Canbrook’s remark that he wished to call on her, and would write to her with a view to doing such a thing. ‘Oh, well, fancy!’ Ryllis exclaimed. ‘I wonder what Father would have to say about that!’

‘I shan’t tell him,’ Lydia said at once, ‘and you mustn’t say anything either. Nor to Mother. If she knows, she might feel duty bound to pass on the information to him.’

‘Well, whether you tell him or not he’s bound to find out at some time.’

‘No, he’s not,’ Lydia said, ‘because Mr Canbrook won’t be calling at the house, and he won’t be writing to me either.’

‘How’ll you stop him? He’s obviously that keen.’

‘I’ll write to him first. I’ll do it tomorrow. He’ll get it Tuesday morning.’

‘What will you say?’

‘What
can
I say? I’ll simply tell him that I respect and admire him, but that’s as far as it goes. I’ll just have to make it clear, as politely as I possibly can, that there’s no future in his calling at the house to see me, or in sending me letters.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘Father’d be very curious, seeing me get a letter from Merinville.’

‘And imagine what he’d say if he found out who it was from.’

Lydia frowned. ‘He mustn’t know. I’ll stop this before it has a chance to go any further.’

‘I suppose you’re right,’ Ryllis said. ‘Mr Canbrook sounds quite a nice old man, though. And giving you that lace . . .’ She gestured to Lydia’s basket. ‘Let’s have a look at it.’

Lydia picked up the little package, partly unwrapped it and opened it up. Exposing the lace, she said, ‘Oh, it’s beautiful.’

‘It certainly is,’ Ryllis said.

‘He told me it’s handmade.’

‘I’m sure it is. It’s lovely.’

Lydia sighed. ‘What d’you think I should do about it?’

‘Well, you could put it on a nightdress. It would look lovely down the front, or on the yoke. There’s plenty there.’

‘No,’ Lydia said, ‘I don’t mean that. What I mean is, I don’t know whether I should keep it – or send it back.’

Ryllis’s eyes widened. ‘Of course you should keep it. He’s given it to you, hasn’t he?’

‘I know that, but if I’m going to send him a letter telling
him not to bother writing or calling at the house, it seems hardly the thing to do to accept presents from him.’

‘But it’s just a piece of lace, for goodness sake. It’s not a carriage and pair. You can’t seriously think of sending it back.’

They said no more at this point on the matter, for the coach was seen approaching. Five minutes later they were climbing on board.

Mr Halley was not at home when they arrived – he was out arranging one of his prayer meetings – but Mrs Halley was there, waiting to welcome her daughter. Even as Ryllis threw her arms about her mother her attention was drawn to the fading bruises on her face. ‘Mother, what happened to your face?’ she asked.

Mrs Halley drew back a little and dismissed the question with a waved hand. ‘Oh, nothing, my dear. Just a little accident – which will teach me to be a bit more careful in future.’

Nothing more was said on the subject, and the three set about making tea. As they drank it a while later, Ryllis sat at the kitchen table, opened up the newspaper she had brought from Redbury and studied the classified advertisements. There were three situations offered that she thought might be suitable, and these she circled with heavy strokes of a pencil. Lydia sat at the table watching her, as did Mrs Halley while she prepared vegetables.

‘Are you going to write off for those positions?’ Lydia asked.

Ryllis shrugged. ‘Well, there’s no harm in doing so, and if I get a new job it can’t be worse than the one I’ve got now.’

‘Oh, Ryllis,’ Mrs Halley said, ‘do you hate it so much where you are?’

‘Yes, I do,’ Ryllis replied. ‘I can’t wait to get away, to move on to some other place.’

‘But if you leave you’ll lose the money for the year so far,’ Mrs Halley said.

‘That’s something I’d have to put up with,’ Ryllis replied.

‘Easier said than done. Your father won’t be pleased. After all, he got you the post in the first place.’

‘I know that,’ Ryllis said, ‘but I didn’t ask him to. He took it upon himself. And why? Because he wasn’t satisfied with the way I was going about it, that’s why. He went on as if I didn’t want to work, as if I didn’t want to get a position.’ She turned to her mother. ‘Oh, I know he’ll be angry if I tell him I intend to leave, but – oh, it isn’t a pleasant life working for the Lucases, not by any means.’

Mrs Halley said, ‘I know the work must be hard, but it usually is in service.’

‘I’m not complaining about the hard work,’ Ryllis said, ‘though it’s very hard indeed. It’s other things. For one thing I don’t have anywhere properly to sleep. I’ve told you that. The cook has her own bedroom, but I have to make do with a little shelf in the kitchen under the dresser. I have to put down a little pallet every night, which I get from the outhouse, and stretch out there. It’s so hard and uncomfortable. Then there are the times when Mr Lucas decides not to go to bed at a decent time, but comes to the kitchen and sits in front of the range – it being the warmest place in the house at the time. Which means I can’t go to bed. I can be as tired as anything, but I have to stay up. I have to sit on a hard chair in the cold scullery, just waiting for him to finish reading his papers and go off upstairs. Sometimes he’s there until the early hours – which means I get hardly any sleep.’

‘Oh, that’s unfair,’ Lydia said. ‘You poor thing.’

‘And another thing,’ Ryllis said. ‘My going on errands to the farm up the road, maybe to get extra cream or milk or anything else they need. I hate it, because when they’re in a hurry for whatever it is I always have to take the shortcut
and go through the field where the cows are grazing.’

‘Cows are generally harmless creatures,’ Mrs Halley said. ‘I shouldn’t think they’d be any danger to you.’

‘It’s not just the cows,’ Ryllis said. ‘Sometimes they let loose the old bull, and he’s that protective of his herd. He’s come at me a few times, and I’ve had the devil’s own job to get away in time – and trying to run while carrying a full can of milk isn’t the easiest thing, I can tell you. He doesn’t like me, that old bull. Well, I don’t like him either.’

‘But do you have to go through the cow pasture?’ Mrs Halley said. ‘Can’t you go around, by the road?’

‘Oh, I could, but that’s such a long way. It takes forever to go by the lane, and I haven’t usually got the time. Mrs Lucas wants her cream or butter when she wants it. She doesn’t want to wait an hour. No, there’s nothing for it but to go through the cow field. Still –’ she laid a hand flat on the newspaper before her, ‘if I find another job soon I can say goodbye to all that.’

Mr Halley came in just after six, finding Ryllis helping her mother and sister in the kitchen. As he came in, Ryllis turned to him and said, ‘Hello, Father – I’m home.’

He nodded, a grave half smile touching his mouth. ‘Ah, so I see, girl. And are you well?’

‘Yes, quite well, thank you.’

‘Good. And let’s hope you enjoy your weekend at home.’

At this Mrs Halley said, ‘Yes, my dear, you enjoy it. I don’t doubt you’ve earned it well enough.’

‘Well,’ Mr Halley said shortly, ‘I think Mr and Mrs Lucas might be the best judge of that, so that question’ll have to go unanswered.’ He took off his hat and sat down in his chair at the side of the range. Obviously he was not in the best of moods.

‘How did you get on at Pershall Dean?’ Mrs Halley asked tentatively.