Read The Fall and Rise of Lucy Charlton Online

Authors: Elizabeth Gill

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Genre Fiction, #Family Saga, #Historical, #Romance, #20th Century, #Sagas, #Historical Fiction

The Fall and Rise of Lucy Charlton (41 page)

Lucy thought a lot about the trip to London. She could see why Joe wouldn’t want to go, that he had been through enough and that he did not want to find out that the girl he loved was dead. At least if he didn’t know he could hold on
to the illusion. She thought about how much he had done for her and for the Misses Slaters and the Formbys and she decided that she would go to London. If she got no further then it didn’t matter and he wouldn’t know and if she did then she would think about what to do next.

That evening she and Gemma sat over the fire until late and she told Gemma about the proposed visit. Gemma didn’t say very much until Lucy had finished telling her all about it.

‘You could be opening a can of worms,’ she said.

‘Yes, but he doesn’t have to know.’

‘You really care about this, don’t you? Do you love Joe?’

Lucy shook her head.

‘Every time I see him we fight about something, but when I don’t see him I want to be there, and I wonder what he’s doing. I don’t know, I was never in love – I never got that far.’

‘Neither did I,’ Gemma admitted. ‘I thought I liked Guy very much before I knew him, but with what we’ve gone through maybe neither of us will ever love anyone again. I would like a father for my children but he would have to be very good and quite rich – the possibility isn’t great. Who would take me on?’

‘Any good man would,’ Lucy said, putting an arm around her. ‘I do miss Joe.’

She didn’t like to say to her sister that she longed to go back to the tower house on the river and spend time with Joe and be a part of his life. If that was love, if wanting to be with somebody so much was really love, then yes, she did love him. But she didn’t think Joe would ever love anyone again.
If Angela was alive then was it possible that Joe and Angela could be together? Would she be sorry that she had brought them back together? She didn’t think Angela was still in love with Joe, that if a woman was so much in love that she would give herself to a man like that, she would have found him by now – unless she was dead of course. And yes, she would be jealous, yes, she did want Joe to herself, but she wasn’t sure that was love. But she had to do the right thing; it was her job as a solicitor. She would not fail in that, first and always.

When she mentioned selling her father’s pocket watch to finance a trip to London, Gemma agreed it was the only way Lucy could raise some money. She suggested she should approach their mother the following morning. Lucy was still a little bit scared of her mother; their relationship had never been like her mother’s with Gemma. She was worried about what would happen.

She hadn’t noticed until now how much weight her mother had lost since her father had died. She was bent over the kitchen range. Her mother had always been quite a big woman but now she was slender, and her hair was thin, it had lost all its colour. Lucy didn’t know whether to ask her or not. She hesitated.

‘If you’ve got something to say I’d like to hear it,’ her mother said as she turned around.

‘I don’t know whether I should.’

Her mother looked levelly at her.

‘I know now that there are a lot of things my lasses don’t tell me – you keep secrets from me because you don’t want me to be more hurt – but you know, Lucy, you’re a good lass. Since you came back to us you’ve been so good with your dad
and with the bairns and in all sorts of other ways. I thought at one time I would never say it to you, but I am now. You’re a good lass and it isn’t your fault that things didn’t work out. You did what you thought was best for your family and not necessarily for you, and don’t think I wasn’t aware of it.’

The tears sprang into Lucy’s eyes. Her mother had never said such a thing to her.

‘Whatever it is, tell me,’ her mother urged.

‘It’s just that I’m trying to help somebody. I need some money to go away for a couple of days. I have nothing and it’s important. I know it seems awful but I wondered if I could pawn my dad’s watch – or do you think that’s a dreadful thing to do?’

Her mother smiled just a little.

‘He’s dead, what does the watch matter? It’s upstairs in my jewellery box, and there’s a jade brooch he gave me when we first met. I don’t think it’s worth a lot, but take that too. We have more important things to think about now than such trivia.’

Lucy kissed her mother quickly.

‘Oh, get away with you,’ her mother said, and flapped a tea towel at this show of emotion.

Lucy ran upstairs before she could change her own mind and took the watch and the jade brooch. She left the house swiftly so that she wouldn’t have to see Gemma or the children. She took the jewellery to the pawnbroker’s and borrowed against them. She swore to try to retrieve them. There was enough money to get her to London so that she could stay overnight and come back the following day.

T
HIRTY-NINE

Edgar decided that he would go and see Lucy on the Saturday morning; it was the first day he didn’t have appointments. He had grown to hate days off and most Saturdays he went to the office anyhow. Mr Clarence began making appointments on what was meant to be their day off, and took to going in on Saturdays too.

Edgar paid him and handsomely because Mr Clarence had a wife and also because he couldn’t have managed without him. Edgar saw how their life together was disrupted because of his own life and it didn’t sit well with him. When he announced that he was not taking any appointments that Saturday Mr Clarence looked relieved. Edgar told him to enjoy his weekend, though he did not think he was going to enjoy it himself.

He had the feeling that the door would be slammed shut in his face when he got to Sandhill, but there was no putting it off. He couldn’t wait until Lucy and her family were on the street before he offered to help. He walked swiftly to the house and banged on the door, his heart pounding.

It was a lovely day in Newcastle, cloudless blue sky, though there was a wind coming off the river. Mrs Charlton
opened the door herself. That had been Edgar’s first concern. Lucy or even her sister would not be as bad as their mother. He reminded himself that he had been too much of a coward to come to Mr Charlton’s funeral and he felt ashamed.

‘Good morning,’ he said, ‘I’m sorry to bother you but I wanted to see Lucy.’

Mrs Charlton said, ‘She’s not here.’

‘Is she at the office?’

Mrs Charlton looked patiently at him.

‘She doesn’t go to the office any more. Now that she has no father she cannot. We are trying to sell the premises.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ he said.

‘Come another day,’ she said.

She went to close the door as Edgar said, ‘When will she be back?’

He heard a younger voice in the hall and Gemma appeared. She looked stiffly at him.

‘Mr Bainbridge, what can we do for you?’

‘I was wanting to see Lucy.’

‘She’s gone away overnight,’ Gemma said.

‘May I come tomorrow?’

Gemma hesitated.

‘It is important,’ he said.

Mrs Charlton muttered something under her breath and went back down the hall.

‘Gemma, I’m so sorry, I really am. I came here with the intention of offering your sister work. I know it won’t make up for the awful things I’ve done, but I want her to become a solicitor. She worked so hard and I’m sure we could reach
an agreement. Would you at least let her know that I came here and what it was about?’

He was going to leave, he even turned around to go, when Gemma stepped back and said, ‘Do come in.’

Edgar would have given a lot to get away but she stood back to let him inside. Not wanting to appear rude, against all his instincts he went in.

It was not a poor house, and in many ways it was beautiful. It had been well looked after and was still. There was the smell of lavender polish in the hall and the old furniture added grace and dignity. At least none of this had been sold. He couldn’t imagine having to sell his house, or even the business premises which had been his father’s and his father before him, but he thought that it would come to this for them if somebody didn’t help.

There was the smell of baking. When he got into the kitchen Mrs Charlton had taken a batch of scones from the oven. The children sat at the table and she was halving and buttering them. Edgar watched the butter run golden across the top of the halved scones, and he longed for one.

‘If you sit at the table,’ Mrs Charlton said, all good manners and sour face, ‘I’ll pour you some tea.’

He demolished three cups of tea and three scones thick with butter and homemade raspberry jam before he remembered his manners. The twins made a mess, with raspberry jam all over their faces and hands, but nobody took any notice and they were enjoying themselves.

‘Mr Bainbridge has come to offer Lucy her job back,’ Gemma told her mother. Mrs Charlton’s face filled with relief and her eyes with tears so that she looked down as
though her scone held something more fascinating than melting butter.

When they had finished eating Gemma got the twins down from the table. She said she was sorry to be inhospitable but she had promised to take the twins to the park. She told him she was sure that if Mr Charlton came at the beginning of the week Lucy would be here to talk to him.

‘She’ll be home late tomorrow,’ Gemma said.

Edgar thanked Mrs Charlton for the scones and tea and made to say his goodbyes. The twins didn’t want to put on their coats and since Gemma was struggling with them in the hall, her mother still in the kitchen, he ended up helping her. The idea of leaving and going back to his empty Saturday in Durham made him feel desperate.

Outside, both children in their coats and leaping about, he saw how tired Gemma looked, the lines on her face that shouldn’t be there at her age. She was weary. He guessed that often Lucy was there to help.

‘Perhaps I could come with you to the park,’ he said.

He remembered the day he’d spent with them in the park, before he and Lucy had been due to marry, and she didn’t say no so they set off. The children skipped along, excited. Since it was uphill they did not wander because it was steep and hard work for them.

It was a very good park, with a boating lake and lots of swings and roundabouts. There were other children playing as well as dogs chasing balls and running about.

Edgar and Gemma each pushed a child on a swing. He thought that perhaps she couldn’t have managed without him, and that made him feel good.

They tried to imitate Gemma and called him, ‘Mr Bainby,’ and it became a chant whenever he stopped pushing the swing.

They screamed and cried then because they both wanted him to push their swing. It made Gemma smile and he thought she was so beautiful – she looked ten years younger when she smiled.

On the way back the little girl fell asleep so he carried her. It was a strange feeling. He immediately wanted to protect her. She smelled young and good and she huddled in against his shoulder and the little boy cried because he wanted Edgar to lift him up too.

Gemma said Mr Bainbridge could only carry one child at once and she couldn’t carry him at all so he would have to walk. So he did and he stopped crying when Edgar clutched his hand. At least it was downhill all the way.

Edgar would have left at that point, but Mrs Charlton opened the door and ushered him inside and told him that he couldn’t go all the way back to Durham with nothing in his stomach. She made it sound as though his journey was as far as Edinburgh, but Edgar didn’t mind since the table was laid for tea.

There were sandwiches and cakes, pink and white and chocolate, light and delicious. The family ate together, the twins too. It was fun.

Afterwards Gemma offered to read, but the little boy took the book to Edgar and ordered him to read it. Like the time before when he had read to them, they believed every word, looking hard at each picture and holding their breath as the pages were turned. Edgar read three picture books to them
before they were tired and Gemma announced that they must go to bed.

They didn’t want to, but she insisted, telling them they must bid Mr Bainbridge goodnight. They were only used to people they knew well, he thought, because each of them came and put their arms around him and kissed his cheek before they went off upstairs. He said goodnight to them and goodbye to Gemma and after that he thanked Mrs Charlton for his lovely day.

‘Children are such a blessing when everything goes wrong,’ she said.

‘You will tell Lucy that I will come back on Monday and that it would be good to see her back in Durham at her desk?’

Mrs Charlton didn’t seem too impressed with this and merely nodded and saw him out.

All the way home on the train Edgar thought that he had truly had a lovely day, he was not just being polite with Mrs Charlton. He was the lonelier for it when he trudged down the hill from the station and made his way home.

*

Joe tried not to think about what Lucy proposed to do. He couldn’t put it out of his mind and made so many mistakes that afternoon that Mr Palmer asked him if he felt all right. When he said he wasn’t sure Mr Palmer told him to go home and get some rest, he had been doing far too much for far too long. For once Joe took his advice.

The Misses Slaters were out somewhere and he and Frederick sat in the garden because the sun was out. He picked out a letter from his father to read. There were only two left.
Reading the letters always made his hands shake and this one was no different.

Dear Joe,

When I woke up this morning I didn’t recognize where I was or myself. It was dark and I was lying on the pavement. I was filthy. People coming past stepped onto the road to avoid me. I just hoped that no one recognized me.

I had no money on me – I think I must have got rid of it all, unless somebody robbed me – and I was so tired that I could hardly get up so I shuffled to where the stone wall would hold me. There I sat as people went by, many of them avoiding even looking in my direction. I fell asleep more than once and the day got through until the light was fading and then a gentleman passing tossed a few coins in my direction. He obviously thought I was a vagrant. I was so ashamed of myself but it enabled me to get into a cab. I had to pay more than I should have in order to persuade the cabbie to take me. It was everything I had but I didn’t care.

He looked hard at me when he put me down and watched me go in at my own front door. I have never been so horrified at my own behaviour. I don’t remember the last time I had a coherent thought. My best times now are when I’m out of my mind in some way – it’s the only way I know to cope.

The house is empty but for a few sticks of furniture, my chair which I always loved so much and my bed – but mostly I don’t even stagger up there. I only go out because I have no drink and nothing else which I need daily. I have played cards and lost and won. I don’t do that any more – I don’t retain sufficient of my mind to do so. Now I go to see friends, make
merry and they give me money. I tell myself I won’t do it and then I do or I take anything I can find to the pawnbrokers – even things which belonged to others which I purloined under guise of friendship. I have so few friends left now. Who can blame them?

I have found friends in what other people would call opium dens. Can I sink lower? It helps me to forget who I am, who I have been and all the wrong things that I have done. It makes me think that your mother did not leave me, that I did not make her go, that we were a family. We never were. She saw me for what I was and it was not pretty and so she left as people do. It doesn’t matter how they leave, once they are gone you are lost and all that you can do is to pretend. I can convince myself of anything when I am lying there and the Orientals have supplied my needs. I feel no shame, I feel no urgency. All I am is here. It doesn’t matter what I did or what I might do or even how I am now. I am right, I am wonderful, I am the best.

Your loving father,

John.

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