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- Herausgeber: Allison & Busby
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Serie: The Honeyfield Series
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016
1901, Wiltshire. Young Kathleen Keller is being forced into marriage with a man she despises by her cruel father. In an act of desperation, she runs away in a bid for a safer life, although one she might not have otherwise have chosen. But when tragedy strikes, Kathleen is left vulnerable and one man threatens the fragile peace she has made for herself. Meanwhile, Nathan Perry works for his father's accountancy firm but yearns for something more satisfying. He is brought in to help with the purchase of Honeyfield House, intended as a safe house for women in trouble by a charitable benefactor, and there encounters Kathleen. Their lives are set to intertwine and neither will be the same again.
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The Honeyfield Bequest
ANNA JACOBS
Contents
Part One
1901–1907
Chapter One
Wiltshire Autumn 1901
Kathleen had never seen a customer look so unhappy. Avoiding other people, the man went to a small table in a back corner of the tea room and sat down with a heavy sigh, staring at his clasped hands. She felt so sorry for him she said to the other waitress, ‘I’ll serve that one.’
‘You’re welcome. He comes in sometimes and always looks miserable!’
‘Don’t be unkind. Someone he loves might have died, for all you know.’
‘Oh! I never thought of that.’
No, you never think of anything but yourself! But Kathleen didn’t say that. It’d just go in one ear and out of the other; the other waitress was such a scatterbrain.
She went across to the man and he stared at her blankly when she asked what he would like. When he didn’t respond, she repeated, ‘May I get you something, sir?’
‘Oh. Sorry. A pot of tea, please.’
‘And something to eat? You look tired and we have some delicious scones.’
Then he looked at her, really looked, and gave her a faint smile. ‘You’re very kind. You couldn’t join me for a few moments, could you, and cheer me up? I’d buy you some tea and scones, too.’
‘I’m sorry, sir. It’s against the rules, and anyway, I have other people to serve.’
But she made detours to pass his table when she didn’t need to, smiling at him each time. It upset her to see anyone look that unhappy. He was well dressed, couldn’t be more than thirty, if that, so it wasn’t likely to be a money worry. Unless he’d lost his job, of course, which could happen to anyone.
When he walked out, he left a sixpenny coin under his saucer for a tip. She appreciated such generosity because her father took all her wages, only letting her keep her tips, and he’d not have done that if he’d realised how much the tips added up to.
She put most of the money in a savings bank and kept her bank book well hidden, leaving a few small coins in a jam jar she left openly in her bedroom and called her tips jar.
Her father had never raided the jar, she had to give him that. Her mother had tried it once, but Kathleen had created such a fuss that her father had backed her up for once and her mother hadn’t tried it again.
When she finished work at two o’clock for her afternoon break, Kathleen found the unhappy customer waiting for her outside and stopped in surprise.
‘I asked the other waitress what time you finished and she said you had a two-hour afternoon break,’ he explained. ‘I hope you don’t mind me waiting to speak to you.’
‘Why do you want to do that?’
‘I wondered if I could walk with you, just for a few minutes? I won’t pester you if you say no, but you have such a cheerful face. Your smile really lifted my spirits today.’
And she did something she had never done before when other men asked her out walking – she felt so sorry for him she said yes. ‘All right. But just round the park.’
‘Thank you, miss …?’ He looked at her questioningly.
‘Kathleen. And you are?’
‘Ernest Seaton.’
‘I don’t usually accept invitations from customers, but you look very unhappy today, Mr Seaton.’
He shrugged.
‘Would you like to tell me about it?’
‘Not really. I’ll just say that I work in my father’s business and he … isn’t easy to deal with.’
‘What exactly do you do?’
‘My father owns a carting business. I do whatever’s needed, work in the office or go out with deliveries. I don’t like working in the office, though. He shouts if I so much as lift my nose from the account books or letter copying.’
Then she realised: this must be the son of Jedediah Seaton, her father’s new employer. She shouldn’t be speaking to him, she should walk away at once. Only … Oh dear, he was looking at her even more unhappily.
‘You’ve heard of my father, haven’t you?’
‘Yes. My father has just started working for him as foreman of the yard. He says Mr Seaton’s very strict, wants things done just so, but he knows what he’s doing.’
And her father was also good at what he did, looking after horses and managing a big stable. He had never been out of work that she could remember. If her mother wasn’t such a bad manager, and her father didn’t drink heavily, the family would have been comfortably off.
Ernest snapped his fingers. ‘Fergus Keller. He’s very good with horses and a capable organiser of the stables, too. My father’s really pleased with him.’
She stopped walking. ‘Da could lose his job if your father saw us together. I’d better leave you. I wish you well, Mr Seaton, and I hope you find something to make you happier.’
But as she turned away, he grabbed her arm.
She stiffened, looking down at it and then at him. ‘Let me go!’
He did so at once. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Keller. But please won’t you come for just a short walk? Because chatting to you is the first thing that’s made me feel happy in a long time.’
She hesitated, remembering how miserable he’d looked when he came into the café. ‘Oh … Very well. Just for a few minutes. We’d better stay at the top of the park, though. The paths are rougher and not many people go up there. And we’ll be out of sight of anyone passing along the street.’
As they continued walking slowly round the top area, she asked, ‘Can you not find somewhere else to work?’
‘No. Carting is all I know, and anyway, when I suggested it, Father said he would not only cut me off from the family without a penny if I tried to leave, he’d see I didn’t get another job in carting.’
‘Oh dear. But perhaps he was just threatening it to keep you there.’
‘My father never makes idle threats. He always does exactly what he says he will. When my younger brother left home against his wishes, Father cut him off without a penny and forbade Mother and me to have anything to do with him. Alex isn’t very strong and working with horses makes him wheeze, but Father kept insisting he’d get over it if he set his mind to it. Only the wheezing got worse. It was so bad some days, Alex couldn’t breathe properly. That’s why he left.’
‘Is he all right?’
‘Oh, yes. Alex only wheezes when he’s near horses. It turned out he’d been planning to leave for a while and had been saving his money. He’s much cleverer than me. He has a stall in the market now and is making a good living, selling quality second-hand household goods. He calls it Old Treasures.’
‘I’ve seen it. He has some nice things for sale.’
‘Yes. He’s clever at finding them. I couldn’t run my own business, though. I’m not good with bookwork and accounts like Alex is. That’s one of the reasons my father gets so angry at me.’
He shrugged again. ‘Let’s not talk about that. Tell me about yourself.’
He offered her his arm, but she shook her head and continued on her own.
‘There isn’t much to tell. I’m the youngest of five. I have two sisters and two brothers. They’re all married and I’m the only one left at home. I work as a waitress but I’m going to classes in the evening and learning to type. I did accounts last year. Next year I’ll learn shorthand. I’m going to be a secretary one day.’
‘Couldn’t your father send you to proper secretarial classes so you can get all the studying done in one year? He’s on a foreman’s wages, after all.’
Which showed Ernest wasn’t as stupid as he made out, she thought. ‘He refuses to pay for classes and he takes all my wages, except for the tips. He won’t let me go to more than one evening class a year, even though I pay for it myself.’
‘Can’t your mother persuade him to let you do more?’
‘My mother never goes against him. She’s terrified of upsetting him.’
‘My mother does what my father says too. Why is Fergus so against you going to classes?’
‘He says women only get married, so educating them apart from the three Rs is a waste of time and money, because employers don’t let married women carry on working. But I’m not going to get married and I am going to become a secretary, however long it takes me.’
‘You’re beautiful when your face lights up like that.’
She stopped dead. ‘Don’t.’
‘Don’t what?’
‘Give me compliments. I’m not interested in having a young man or courting.’
He looked so disappointed she added, ‘I’ll be your friend, if you like, but nothing more.’
He smiled shyly at her, a smile that transformed his rather lumpy face. ‘I’d love to be your friend, Miss Keller. I’m not good with people and I don’t have any real friends.’
The church clock struck a quarter to three just at that moment and he dragged out his watch from his waistcoat pocket, looking panic-stricken when he opened it. ‘I can’t believe that’s the time already. I’m going to be late back and my father will kill me. May I see you tomorrow?’
‘No.’
‘Please.’
He looked so upset she relented. ‘Same day next week.’
‘A whole week away!’
‘Yes. I have classes and things to do.’ She usually spent her afternoon breaks studying in the public library. At least her father didn’t complain when she borrowed books, because that was free, though he laughed at what she chose and said she was only pretending to understand them to show off. She’d seen him reading them sometimes, though. He wasn’t a stupid man, just pig-headed about certain things.
‘Very well. Next week it is.’ Ernest tipped his hat to her and hurried off down the slope to the street.
‘I’m a fool,’ she muttered. She didn’t need more trouble. It was hard enough persuading her father to let her keep going to the evening classes. Of course, her mother agreed with him, she always did, but at least she kept telling her husband it did no harm.
Once Ernest Seaton was completely out of sight, Kathleen walked briskly down the hill and went into the library, forgetting her new acquaintance as she chose another book about running a shop and hid it under a silly novel about a young maidservant who married a prince.
The librarian frowned at the business book. ‘Books on this topic are only usually borrowed by men. Are you sure you can understand it, miss?’
He made similar comments every week. He was as bad as her father. ‘I find them extremely interesting, thank you.’
He shook his head but didn’t try to stop her borrowing it.
She smiled as she walked out with it on top of her pile. Actually, she didn’t understand some of the words and ideas in the business books, but she would one day. Whatever her father said or did. She enjoyed learning new things.
When she went home, her father wasn’t there, of course, but her mother glanced at the top book. ‘What rubbish you read, to be sure. You’ll forget all that sort of thing when you’re married.’
‘I don’t want to get married.’
‘Of course you do. All young girls do. Your brothers and sisters are all married now.’
Well, I’m not going to, thought Kathleen rebelliously. But she didn’t waste her breath saying that again.
Nathan Perry was born in 1884 to a comfortable life as an accountant’s son. By 1901 he had shown that he was going to be tall like his father, which he was pleased about. He had a shock of wavy, light-brown hair, which didn’t please him, because it would never stay tidy and that got him into trouble with his father. Even his face was wrong and he often heard people say it looked too old for a child.
When he grumbled about this, his mother always told him he’d grow into his face, but that was no consolation because she couldn’t say when that would happen. Every time he looked in the mirror and saw that sharp profile with its scimitar of a nose, he wished desperately that he was more normal-looking.
The strangeness wasn’t just on the outside; it was inside his mind too. He found out by chance that he had a gift for finding lost people and objects. If he’d known how angry it’d make his father, he’d have kept quiet about it the first time it happened, but at eight years old who was wise enough to understand that people didn’t like those who were too different?
He’d simply blurted out that his father’s favourite penknife had fallen out of his pocket in the back garden, and when challenged, led his parents straight to it. As he hadn’t been out in the garden all day that earned him a frown.
He followed up this success with several others over the next few months and one day his father took him into his study. ‘From now on, son, you’re to hide your ability to find things.’
‘Shouldn’t I help people who’ve lost something?’ Nathan asked in puzzlement.
‘No. Better leave them to do that themselves. How else will they learn to be more careful in future?’
Nathan frowned, not understanding the reason for yet another rule that seemed designed to hem him in.
His father harrumphed and said, ‘Look, other people don’t know where to find lost things. It’s … unusual and it makes you look strange when you take someone straight to the object they’re searching for. Your life will be a lot easier if you fit in and do as others do. Trust me on that.’
As Nathan started to protest, his father held up one hand. ‘I have said my last word on this. Kindly do as you are told.’
Whenever his father spoke in that staccato tone, Nathan knew that beating his head against the wall would be easier than trying to change his father’s mind. He’d watched his mother sigh and give in to her husband many a time, and had gradually worked out that life would be easier for him if he did the same. So he simply said, ‘Very well, Father.’
The voice softened. ‘Good lad.’ A flap of his father’s hand sent him out of the room.
The new orders didn’t make sense, so Nathan sought out his mother, who was far better at explaining the complications of daily life.
She sighed when he asked her. ‘Oh dear. I was afraid of this.’
‘Afraid of what, Mother?’
She bent her head and he waited, realising she was thinking what to say.
Then she looked up and gestured to the seat beside her on the sofa. ‘Close the door and sit down, dear.’
He did as she asked and she took his hand, patting it absent-mindedly, which meant she had something important to say.
‘What I’m going to tell you must be kept to yourself, Nathan. You’re not to speak about it to anyone, especially not to your father. Promise me.’
‘I promise.’
‘You got your gift for finding things from my side of the family, more specifically from my maternal grandmother. Occasionally members of her family have a … a mental gift, though you can never tell what it’ll be until it suddenly, well, appears one day.’
He knew the family’s genealogy but he hadn’t heard about anyone else with strange talents before. ‘Go on.’
She explained about the Latimers and their big country house called Greyladies. ‘And …’ She hesitated and looked over her shoulder before she continued, even though the door of her small sitting room was closed. ‘The house is haunted and the women who inherit it see the ghost of the first Anne Latimer from time to time. They think she still watches over her descendants and the house she loved. Sometimes we—they know things they can’t possibly know.’
‘You started to say “we”, Mother. Are you able to know things in that way?’
She stared down at her lap. ‘Sometimes, yes. But I promised your father when we got married that I’d try not to do it any more and that I’d not tell anyone about the Latimers. He thought I was making things up at first, about knowing things, and when he found I wasn’t, he grew angry with me. As if I had any choice in the matter! I was born like that but I’ve been able to suppress it, thank goodness.’
He knew why she had said ‘Thank goodness’. Because she always did as her husband wished. It seemed a strange way to live to him.
‘And now it seems you too have a gift of some sort. You’re part Latimer, after all, even if it’s only a distant connection. Your gift is for finding things.’
‘I can’t help it any more than you can.’
‘No. I can see that. I feel you need to understand the … the situation, which is why I’ve broken my promise to your father never to speak of it. Please don’t tell him and please try to stop doing it.’
She looked so uncomfortable he decided not to mention the other things he had experienced, like sensing the presence of a ghost in one house they’d visited or occasionally knowing when something bad was going to happen.
‘And you won’t try to discuss it with your father, will you?’
‘No. What good would that do?’
She sighed. ‘No good at all.’
‘I’m not going to make a fool of myself or upset Father, but I’m very relieved to know that I’m not alone in being different. What’s more, I don’t think it’s a bad sort of difference, so thank you for telling me about your family, Mother.’
Her gentle smile told him he’d said the right thing. ‘If you try hard, I’m sure you can learn to … to ignore it.’
Why? he wondered. Why should he deny this ability if it helped people?
One day he’d go and visit this Greyladies place and perhaps speak to someone there about the strangeness in the family.
But he knew how angry it would make his father, so he’d not mention it. And he was quite sure his mother wouldn’t talk about it again either.
His mother never spoke of it again but as the years passed Nathan’s gifts remained as strong as ever. He didn’t want to ignore them. Watching his parents, he decided that if he ever got married, it’d be to someone who didn’t want him to hide these strange abilities. They were part of him, after all.
It might be best, he decided, not to marry at all. Because his mother wasn’t really happy, and his father was always too watchful about what his wife and his son were doing.
Trying to live with someone else seemed to cause so many complications that it wasn’t worth it.
What’s more, as soon as he was grown up and was earning his living, he’d move away from home. He liked the idea of living quietly on his own, liked it very much.
Chapter Two
After their first meeting, Kathleen met Ernest in the park several times, at first only once a week, then she relented and agreed to meet him twice a week. He seemed a kind man and she was touched by his air of unhappiness, but she didn’t find him at all attractive and didn’t want to be more than his friend.
He told her what life was like in his home. Very comfortable physically, it sounded, with two maids and a cook, and everyone with their own bedroom and plenty to eat – but it must have been uncomfortable in mood, because his father sounded to be worse than hers about bossing people around.
The Seatons didn’t keep a carriage, but then they rarely went anywhere except to St John’s parish church on Sundays, and they walked there, even when it was raining, so that didn’t matter.
‘My mother insists we all go together. It’s very boring,’ Ernest said.
‘That’s Church of England, isn’t it? We’re Catholics.’
‘Oh yes. I suppose you are. I remember, now, my father mentioned it when he hired Keller. He doesn’t usually hire Catholics or the Irish, but he said there was no one else at all suitable and your father came highly recommended.’ He hesitated. ‘Um, I don’t know much about Catholics.’
‘I wish I wasn’t one. The Church is run by the priests and they’re always interfering in people’s lives. And the nuns teach the girls at school. They wanted me to go to college and become a teacher, but Da wouldn’t hear of it. He’s—’ She broke off. Best keep her worries to herself.
He looked at her and stopped. ‘It’s you who sound angry now.’
‘Father Michael came round to see my parents last night and I overheard them talking. Well, actually, I eavesdropped. Da was saying I turn twenty-one next week and the priest said they should get me married off before I become an old spinster – or go to the bad. How dare he say that about me?’
‘You’re not the sort of girl who goes to the bad. Anyone can see that.’
‘No, I’m not. But I’m not the sort to get married, either, thank you very much. Once a woman does that, she’s a slave to her husband – and to the Church. Our priest only thinks of women as breeders of children and housekeepers.’
He blinked as if she’d shocked him with such frank talk, so she changed the subject, telling him about a book on London she’d borrowed from the library. ‘Such lovely photos, it had. I’m going there one day. I want to see the new King and Buckingham Palace and the Tower of London. And the big stores. Not that I’d have any money to spend, but at least I’d be able to look and dream.’
‘I’ve never been to London, either.’
‘But your family could afford it any time you wanted.’
He smiled at her. ‘My father would throw a fit at the mere idea of wasting time on gallivanting round London, or taking a holiday of any kind, except for Christmas and Easter.’
‘He sounds as much a bully as my father.’
Ernest’s face became unhappy again. ‘More, I should think.’
The following Saturday Kathleen turned twenty-one. Her mother wished her happy birthday, the manageress at the café gave her a small iced cake to mark the occasion and that was it.
This birthday was a magic number, she thought bitterly, supposed to make you an adult and independent, but if you didn’t have any money, how could you be independent? As far as she could see, women were never able to order their own lives. They didn’t have the vote, their wages were lower than men’s and their fathers bossed them around till they passed them on to a husband, who did even worse things to them.
When she got home from work on the Saturday afternoon, her mother looked nervous. Her father wasn’t back yet and tea was already on the table: ham, with a boiled egg as well for her father, bread and butter, apple pie and custard to follow.
In the evening, her father stayed home and wouldn’t let her go round to her friend Jenny’s, as she’d planned. ‘We’ve got the priest coming tonight,’ he said curtly. ‘You’ll stay home and listen to what he says.’
The sharp tone of his voice made her heart sink. Had he found out about her afternoon walks with Ernest?
After tea she waited for them to tell her exactly why the priest was coming, but they didn’t. She got out one of her library books but her father told her to put that rubbish away and talk to her mother.
After that he ignored them and read his newspaper, but her mother hardly said a word. Her mother never did say much when her father was around.
It was a relief when there was a knock on the door. Let’s get it over with, Kathleen thought, bracing herself.
Father Michael came in, not smiling this evening as he usually did.
‘Will I get you a cup of tea, Father?’ her mother asked, voice shaking with nervousness.
‘No, Mrs Keller, not today, I thank you. I just had one at the last house. Let’s have our little chat, shall we?’
So they all sat in the parlour, which smelt of furniture polish and the new linoleum.
Her father said by way of introduction, ‘I’ve asked the good father to speak to you about your future, Kathleen Frances.’
She said nothing, waiting for the blow to fall. Her father was the only person to use her full name, and today he’d said it sharply as if he was angry with her.
The priest took over. ‘You’re twenty-one years old now, Kathleen, a young woman in her prime. It’s a good age at which to marry, but your parents are worried because you’ve shown no interest in any of our young men.’
‘I don’t want to get married, thank you, Father.’
He sucked in his breath. ‘How can you say that? It’s a young woman’s Christian duty to marry and have children.’
‘Some of them don’t.’
It was her father’s turn to breathe deeply.
‘Ah, and it’s sorry such young women are about not being able to get married. They talk to me about it, you know. Except for those who have a calling, of course, and you’ve shown no interest in wanting to become a nun.’
‘No, I’d not fancy that.’
‘I didn’t think so. Now, I want you to have a good long think about it and then do your duty, find a young man and raise a family. You’ll be the happier for it, I promise you.’
She didn’t say anything, but she hadn’t changed her mind and she didn’t agree with his view of what made a woman happy.
Her father cleared his throat. ‘I put the word about at church and I’ve been spoken to by Desmond Mannion, Father. He’d be interested in courting Kathleen, he says. I’ve told him I’m agreeable because he’s got a decent job.’
She stared at her father in shock. ‘But he’s a bully and everyone knows all the men in his family beat their wives.’
‘Then the wives should behave themselves better, shouldn’t they?’
‘Well, I wouldn’t touch Desmond with a barge pole let alone marry him. He’s a horrible man and he doesn’t even keep himself clean.’
‘It’s up to a wife to keep her family clean. Anyway, you haven’t found yourself a husband so I took it on myself. The Mannions are doing well. Desmond’s in steady work on the railways and will be a good provider, and you, young lady, are far too fussy about keeping clean. You cost me a fortune in soap.’
She leant forward and said loudly and clearly, ‘I will not even consider courting a man like that.’
‘You are living in my house and you will do as I tell you or get out.’
The priest intervened. ‘Shhh, now, gently does it, Fergus. Kathleen, my dear, couldn’t you just give it a try? Walk out with Desmond and see how you go.’
‘No, I won’t. I can’t stand him.’
Her father clouted her on the side of the head, sending her spinning across the room.
‘Fergus Keller, what do you think you’re doing hitting our Kathleen like that!’ her mother said. ‘In front of the father, too. You know I won’t have violence.’
It was the one thing her mother would stand up to him for. And he only threatened violence when he was drunk, usually.
‘She deserves it, Deirdre. She’d make a saint furious, that one would.’ He came across and yanked his daughter to her feet. ‘I am the master of this house and I have spoken, Kathleen Frances Keller. You will marry Desmond Mannion.’ He shook her like a dog shakes a rat, then flung her away from him.
He rarely got that angry but when he did, you had to be careful what you said and did. She kept silent but promised herself she’d not give in. She’d rather run away than marry a man like that. Far away.
‘Let us all pray for the Lord’s guidance about this,’ the priest said hastily.
Her father thrust her to her knees in front of Father Michael who began a long, rambling prayer. By the time it was over her knees were aching and her cheek was throbbing.
Her father looked to have calmed down a little, or at least the wild light had gone out of his eyes. But he still gave her a grim, determined look, as if challenging her to defy him.
Kathleen hadn’t changed her mind, though, and she never would. She could be as stubborn as him about this.
She would run away this very night, she decided.
To her dismay they locked her in her room when she went to bed and the following morning her father told her she’d be walking to church with Desmond.
He waited by the door for her suitor to arrive.
‘Can’t you stop Da doing this?’ she whispered to her mother. ‘It’s wrong.’
‘I agree with him. You need to be married.’
She threw her mother a reproachful look and touched the bruise on her cheek. ‘And do you agree with this, too?’
‘No. You know I don’t. And he doesn’t usually beat people. But you do need bringing into step, Kathleen. You’ve grown too uppity, working in that fancy tea room. A woman needs a husband. Look at your sisters. Nice little families they’ve got.’
Families that were getting bigger all the time, she thought. So far, Josie and May had become pregnant with a new baby each year, so their families wouldn’t stay little for long. Unless they died in childbirth, as her mother’s next sister had.
No. The last thing Kathleen wanted was to get married. And she wouldn’t do it. They couldn’t make her say the words, after all, even if they dragged her to the church.
A knock at the door revealed Desmond, big jowly face shiny with washing and his weekly clean shirt making the skin on his neck look even redder. He was slightly shorter than she was, because she was tall for a woman, but he was broader and very strong with it. She shivered. She’d not stand a chance of fighting him off.
‘Kathleen’s a little shy about walking out with you,’ her father said. ‘So you’ll need to hold on to her tightly till she gets used to a man’s touch.’
Desmond came across to her, frowning as she turned round to display her bruised face. He looked at her father for an explanation.
‘She had a little fall yesterday,’ he said.
From the look Desmond threw him, he understood exactly how she’d got the bruise and wasn’t pleased by it. He studied her as if assessing her worth before saying, ‘Good morning to you, Kathleen Frances.’
She thought it best to mutter, ‘Good morning,’ back to him.
‘We’ll be off, then.’ Her father scowled at her again. ‘I’m hungry. I don’t like waiting for my breakfast till after the later Mass. Don’t make me have to do it again, miss!’
As they walked out on to the street, Desmond took her arm and didn’t let go of it. Worse still, his eyes hardly left her body. It was as if he was assessing what she was like without her clothes on. It made her feel humiliated, even though he hadn’t touched her body, except for her arm.
How quickly could she run away, she wondered? And where would she go? She couldn’t run away from work because she’d not be able to take her spare clothes with her, but if they kept locking her up at night, she’d not be able to leave.
She didn’t say a prayer in church because she was done with a deity whose priest and worshippers treated her like a slave without a mind of her own.
After Mass was over, she was marched home and then her father said, ‘We’ll see you on Tuesday evening, Desmond lad. You can sit in the front room and chat to her, do a bit of courting.’
‘Yes, Mr Keller. I’ll look forward to that.’
He sniggered and she guessed he’d be doing more than talking, and what’s more, they’d let him maul her around.
‘Goodbye, Mrs Keller, Kathleen Frances.’
When he’d gone she rushed for the back scullery and vomited her sick disgust into the sink.
Her father came and leant against the doorpost. ‘Vomit as much as you like, girl. It’s your own fault. You should have found yourself another husband if you don’t fancy my choice of man. Trouble is, most of the ones your age are taken now.’
‘I don’t want a husband at all and I won’t marry him.’
His hands bunched into fists, but he didn’t hit her again. The expression on his face said it wouldn’t take much to make him lose control, though.
He’d been angry for days, because his wife had lost the housekeeping money and had to ask him for more. He’d had to give her his drinking money, and that meant him staying at home in the evening. Well, serve them both right. It just showed you shouldn’t marry someone you didn’t even like.
On Monday morning Kathleen’s father got ready for work and as he was picking up his lunch box, he studied her face. ‘You’d better stay home from work today. That’s a bad bruise. I didn’t mean to hurt you so badly.’
It was as near as he’d ever come to an apology, but he was still intending to marry her to a brute, so she didn’t care what he said. She was going to run away. She’d already thought what to say to that. ‘I can’t stay at home. I’d lose my job and then how would I save for my wedding?’
‘Hmm. I’m glad to see you’re starting to think straight. You’d better tell that manager you had a fall.’
She inclined her head but couldn’t force her mouth to agree with him.
He turned to her mother. ‘You’ll walk with her to work and escort her home again in the evening from now on.’
Her mother made one of her rare protests. ‘But I need to cook tea and—’
‘Tea can wait. We need to keep her safe till she’s wed. It’ll only be for a month or so.’
‘Yes, Fergus.’
At the tea room the manager gasped in shock at the sight of her face. The other waitresses sniggered but didn’t look surprised. One of them had seen her on the way back from church yesterday and must have told the others.
‘I had a bad fall on Saturday,’ she said but made sure her tone said otherwise.
‘Well, we can’t let our customers see you like that. And if you come in again with a bruised face, I’ll have to replace you with someone more presentable.’
‘I’ve got some face powder,’ one of the other waitresses offered as they got ready. ‘That’ll hide it a bit.’
But it didn’t hide much and Kathleen hated the itchy feel of the horrid stuff on her skin.
At first they kept her in the back room, helping put food on the plates and set out the tea things on trays, but a rush of customers meant she had to go out and serve. That took all her courage.
Ernest came in and she saw the exact moment he caught sight of her face. He took a hasty step forward and she shook her head slightly. He stopped moving towards her, thank goodness.
When she went to serve him, he whispered, ‘What happened?’
Only to him did she tell the truth. ‘My father thumped me.’
‘Your father did this!’
‘Yes. It’s his way of trying to persuade me to marry a man I detest.’
‘Marry! Are you going to do it?’
‘Not if I can find a way to escape.’
As another waitress passed by he said loudly, ‘And a piece of apple pie as well, miss.’
She took the food to him and he caught hold of her arm. ‘Will you meet me in our usual place during your afternoon break? Please.’
She nodded and went to get another customer’s order.
Neither her father nor her mother seemed to have remembered her afternoon breaks and she prayed it’d stay that way.
Chapter Three
When she left the tea room, Kathleen walked straight past Ernest, saying in a low voice, ‘I’ll follow you to make sure no one sees us together.’ Then she stopped to look in a shop window and let him overtake her.
He walked briskly along the street and turned into the park. At the top of the hill, he sat on one bench and she chose another one nearby, where she was hidden from the road by some bushes.
For a moment he was silent, then he said, ‘What happened?’
So she explained in more detail what her father was doing to her and her plans to run away.
As the minutes ticked by without him commenting, she wondered if this would be the last time she saw him.
Finally, he made a little noise in his throat and said, ‘I think you’d be better marrying me than running away. I’d never beat you and I earn a steady living in my father’s business.’
She was so shocked she could only gape at him.
He smiled across at her sadly. ‘I know you’re not in love with me, Kathleen, and you don’t want to marry anyone. But you’ll be safe with me, at least. I promise you.’
There was another reason she didn’t want to be married and it burst out now. ‘I’d still be tied to our children, though. The Kellers usually have large families and the women do nothing but have babies and run round after them.’
‘The Seatons don’t usually have large families and anyway, there are ways to limit families in this modern world. One of the grooms told me about it. I’d want two or three children, but not a dozen.’
She stared at him. ‘It’s a sin to stop the children coming.’
‘Only in your church.’
‘Oh. Yes, I suppose so. And if I marry you and join your church, will you promise you’ll do that? Keep the number of children down?’
‘Yes. I promise.’
And she believed him. He was like a child in a man’s body, blurting things out without thinking. But if he was telling the truth, he’d be able to keep her safe. A great weight slid from her shoulders. Something had gone wrong in her mother’s body and she’d borne a dead child after Kathleen, then been unable to have any others. So she’d only had five children. But other women from church had ten or more. She didn’t want to be trapped like that.
‘How can we get married, though? Da won’t give permission for me to marry anyone who isn’t a Catholic.’
‘You’re over twenty-one now. You don’t need his permission. My father won’t want me to marry you, either, so we must do it secretly. I shan’t say anything to him till after we’ve tied the knot.’
He frowned, clearly thinking hard, and she waited patiently.
‘Can you get hold of your birth certificate, Kathleen?’
‘Yes. Ma keeps all the family’s papers in the top drawer of the sideboard in our front room, the rent book and so on.’
‘Good. And can you get out of the house after everyone’s asleep?’
‘I can try. I’d need to get away tonight, though, or I’ll spend tomorrow evening fending off Desmond Mannion. He … um, started bumping into me when we walk together and tries to touch me where he shouldn’t.’
Ernest looked across at her sympathetically. ‘I’ve met him. He worked at our yard for a few days but my father sacked him. He boasted about the women he’d had. I didn’t like him. What time can you leave the house?’
‘My parents are heavy sleepers. They never stir once they’re asleep. But my father locked me in my bedroom last night and I should think he’ll do the same every night from now on till they marry me off. I’ll have to try to climb out of the window. I’ve read in storybooks about people knotting sheets together to escape.’
Ernest shook his head. ‘It’ll be easier if I bring a ladder, won’t it? Can you get the window open and climb through it or does he lock that as well? And dare you climb down a ladder?’
She returned his smile. ‘It wouldn’t occur to Da to lock the window. And I wouldn’t be at all afraid to climb down. I was a tomboy when I was little and I used to love climbing trees till Ma stopped me playing with the lads.’
‘Midnight it is, then.’ He stood up. ‘I have to get back to work now, but I won’t let you down, Kathleen.’
Again she believed him, she didn’t know why. He might speak and think slowly, but he seemed honest.
Was she doing the right thing? She didn’t know. But it would be better than running away on her own. She’d never even been out of Swindon, so she wouldn’t have any idea where to go.
That night after she was locked in her bedroom, Kathleen put her plan into operation. There were no gaslights up here, only downstairs, and they hadn’t given her a candle, but she was able to see clearly enough to pack her clothes by the light from the gas street lamp outside, whose top was just level with the bottom part of her window.
Trying to move silently, she stuffed as many of her spare clothes as she could into her pillowcase, used safety pins to help keep it closed and put it under the bed. Then she put on her best skirt under her working skirt, and two extra blouses, as well as extra underwear. She felt like an overstuffed doll, but she wanted to take as many clothes with her as she could.
Afraid of falling asleep, she sat bolt upright, her back against the wall and listened carefully to what was happening downstairs.
It seemed a long time till she heard her parents come upstairs. Soon their bedhead began bumping against the wall in a regular rhythm. Her father snorted and moaned as he had his way with her mother. He was like an animal, Kathleen thought, doing that nearly every night and not caring who heard him.
She’d asked her mother once if that sort of thing was normal and if it hurt. Her mother had shrugged and said you got used to it because men insisted on it and no, it didn’t usually hurt.
Desmond Mannion would treat his wife the same way, Kathleen was sure, and she didn’t intend to get used to it, thank you very much. Ugh. The very thought of him doing that to her made her feel sick.
But what would Ernest Seaton be like in bed? Would he keep his word and be gentle with her? Doubts were creeping in now because he was right about one thing: she didn’t love him, didn’t think she ever could, and didn’t really want him to touch her, either.
He was such a pale, plump man with thin stringy hair whose brown colour already looked faded, though he was only twenty-eight. He seemed kind and decent, though, if not very clever. She prayed she wasn’t mistaken about that. Kindness made a lot of things more bearable in this life, even small kindnesses from your workmates.
If the two of them could manage to get married without her father stopping them – or Ernest’s father – she’d be free and her parents could disown her all they liked.
She knew that their main reason for pushing her into marriage was to get all their children tied to ‘good providers’ so that when her father was old and unable to work, there would be money to spare to look after them. You’d think they could save enough to look after themselves, because he earned more than most men round here, but her father liked to buy his friends a drink and her mother was a poor manager so the money, including Kathleen’s wages, was often frittered away.
There had been no noises from the next bedroom for a long time, so when she heard the church clock chime midnight, she put on her shabby boots and went to look out of the window. Her Sunday shoes were safe in the pillowcase and she’d managed to fit most of her decent clothes in it too because she didn’t have all that many.
She sighed in relief as she saw Ernest waiting near the corner. It was a good sign that he had kept his promise and was on time, surely?
As she slid the bottom half of the window open slowly and carefully, he looked up and waved, bringing the ladder closer. She’d greased the pulley cords of the window tonight with a dollop of dripping she’d scooped on to an old rag when she was washing the dishes. To her relief the window didn’t squeak at all. Another good sign.
She’d easily got hold of her birth certificate because her mother insisted that she keep her library books in the front room, except for the one she was reading. Her mother was terrified of them getting damaged, for some strange reason, and a fine being applied, even though Kathleen had been borrowing books for years without that happening.
There was a faint clunk and the top of the ladder appeared against the bedroom windowsill. She took a deep breath and gestured, before throwing her bundle of clothes down to Ernest. He caught it deftly and set it to one side, then held the bottom of the ladder and signalled her to climb out.
She crossed herself automatically before she did this, then got annoyed with herself for doing something religious when she’d vowed to be done with the Church. Taking a deep breath, she eased out on to the ladder. After a couple of rungs, she closed the window.
It was all happening so easily and smoothly she couldn’t believe it.
‘I was worried you’d change your mind,’ he whispered as she reached the ground.
‘No. Not at all.’
Ernest took the wooden ladder away from the windowsill, hefted it into a comfortable position and began walking.
She walked beside him, clutching her pillowcase tightly and wondering where they were going.
He took her to the yard at Seaton and Son, unlocking the gate and putting one finger to his lips. He trod lightly when he walked, as some plump men did, and she watched him stow the ladder away neatly. Was he going to hide her here? Surely not when her father worked for Seaton’s and was sleeping in the house at the other side of the yard?
But Ernest led the way out into the street again and locked the gate.
‘Where are we going?’ she whispered, worrying now.
‘I’m taking you to stay with our old housekeeper till you and I can marry, but I can’t get you there till tomorrow because she lives outside Swindon to the west, in a village called Monks Barton.’
‘I’ve never heard of it.’
‘It’s a small place, about ten miles from here. That’s too far for me to walk because I’d have to come back home afterwards.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘I’m not good at walking long distances. Even half that distance would make me too tired to think straight and I’m going to need all my wits about me to get us safely married.’
‘So what shall I do tonight?’
‘There’s a shepherd’s hut just outside town that no one uses now. You’ll be safe there. It’s not too far. I’ve got a load to deliver near Monks Barton tomorrow afternoon and I’ll pick you up as I pass the hut. You should hide on the cart under the tarpaulin till we get there, if you don’t mind. It’ll be better if no one sees you till after we’re married.’
When she didn’t answer straight away, he asked, ‘Will that be all right?’
‘Yes, of course. Only … what does your housekeeper think of this? Does she know I’m coming?’
‘No, she doesn’t but she’ll make you welcome for my sake. I can always rely on Rhoda to help me. She’s the only person who’s ever really cared about me.’
‘What about your brother?’
‘Alex? I’ve only spoken to him once or twice since he moved away from home. My father would throw a fit if he saw us together.’
‘You seem very sure of this housekeeper.’
A smile lit his face briefly, making it suddenly seem less dull. ‘I am sure of her. You see, my mother left me in Rhoda’s care most of the time when I was younger, because Mother doesn’t like children and I was rather sickly. So Rhoda’s my real mother, as far as I’m concerned.’
