‘It’s all arranged, darling,’ Belinda said, reaching across the table to give Cassy’s hand a comforting squeeze. ‘I was going to tell you tonight anyway. I’ve found a place for Mrs Porter in the soldiers’ home. She’s going to live in and work in the kitchens, although I hope they won’t allow her to do any cooking. We need a housekeeper, and Mrs Wilkins has agreed to come with us to Lemon’s Terrace. Naturally Freddie will come too. I wouldn’t leave the little fellow behind, and he’ll go to a better school. We’ll make a gentleman of him yet.’
What Freddie thought of the plan to make him into a gentleman was never likely to be put to the test, but when Cassy asked him how he felt about the move, she found to her relief that he was looking forward to living in the big house and did not seem to be worried about the change of school. Mrs Wilkins was thrilled to think she would be elevated to the position of housekeeper with staff to do her bidding. Everyone seemed happy, but Cassy still had the nagging feeling that something was wrong. She could not put her finger on what it was that worried her, but she knew that something somewhere was amiss. She had vivid dreams that verged on nightmares when she was searching for someone or something in a suffocating dust storm that howled about her ears and filled her eyes and mouth with grit. She was about to find what she was looking for when she awakened, sweating and panic-stricken.
She told no one, not even Lottie when she came to visit one Sunday afternoon. It was just an irritation of nerves, Cassy told herself, due to an over-active imagination aggravated by all the emotional upheavals of the last few months. Putting her personal problems behind her, she listened avidly to Lottie’s experiences at the hospital. The male doctors were frankly hostile, she said, but the female students were determined to overcome their prejudices. They were sisters in adversity, and in some ways it was like being back in Miss North’s academy. This made them both dissolve into giggles, and then it was Cassy’s turn to tell Lottie about her hopes for promoting Jack Bragg as an artist. Lottie was enthusiastic and promised to attend the exhibition. There was nothing she would love more than to help support the brave soldiers who had given so much to their country.
With this encouragement in mind, Cassy threw herself even more keenly into making arrangements for the first public showing of Jack’s art. After a great deal of thought she had decided to include as many of the inmates of the home as possible. One-legged, one-eyed Sidney was a dab hand at making wicker baskets, having worked at that trade before he enlisted in the army. Ronald, blinded by an exploding grenade, could throw a clay pot as well as any sighted man and his sensitive fingers had created some amazing results. These were fired in a kiln at the bottom of the garden paid for by Cade, who was more than generous in providing the men with everything they needed to encourage and develop their skills.
Cassy sent out dozens of invitations and on the day of the exhibition she had the men dressed in their Sunday best, waiting to meet their prospective patrons. At first she was afraid that no one would turn up, but by midday the hall was packed with people all showing great interest in the soldiers’ work. The well-heeled, expensively attired guests made all the right noises, congratulating the men on their efforts and praising them to the skies, but Cassy saw very little money change hands. At the end of the afternoon when the crowds had drifted away, Cade organised cabs to take the men back to the home, leaving Cassy and Jack to take stock of their success.
As he slipped the last coin into a leather pouch, Jack looked up at Cassy with a rueful grin. ‘They wasn’t exactly in the mood for spending, it seems, miss.’
Cassy had been taking down what was left of his artwork, but she stopped and hurried to the table where he had the account book open in front of him. ‘How did we do?’
He shook his head. ‘Put it this way, miss. The toffs weren’t about to spend a fortune on works by the likes of us. We won’t get no champagne suppers from what we took today.’
‘Let me see.’ Cassy leaned over to examine his neat rows of figures and her heart sank. ‘They haven’t been over-generous, that’s for sure,’ she said angrily. She did not tell him that their takings would barely cover the cost of hiring the hall. She forced herself to smile. ‘It’s a start, Jack.’
He gave her a straight look. ‘No, miss. I ain’t a fool. This is more like the finish for the likes of me and the boys. You’ve got to face facts.’ He picked up the pouch and shook it so that the coins jingled. ‘I’ll bet this don’t cover the expense of setting up all this. It’s the end for me, and I know it.’
Chapter Twenty-two
‘Nonsense,’ Cassy said firmly. ‘We were just dealing with the wrong sort of people, Jack. I was aiming too high, but it’s given me an idea.’ She paced the floor, stopping to pick up a basket and looping it over her arm. ‘What we need is a shop where we can sell things to people who would be only too pleased to buy something handmade by the men who were prepared to give their lives for their country. I had it all wrong when I invited all those stuck-up snobs who make their money out of ordinary people’s hard work, paying them a pittance for their labours. It was my mistake, Jack, not yours. You’ll see.’
‘I’m no artist, miss. Maybe I should give up now.’
‘If you do I’ll never speak to you again. Just wait until I’ve discussed it with my father. We won’t let one small setback put us off.’
Jack’s face split into a cheerful grin and his eyes twinkled. ‘Well now, Miss Cassy. I ain’t never heard you call him that afore.’
She shrugged her shoulders. ‘It slipped out. Anyway, I’ll talk to him as soon as we get home. Wait here while I go outside and look for a cab.’
Reaching for his crutches, Jack hauled himself off the chair. ‘I ain’t completely helpless. You stay here. I’ll find a cab even if I has to hook one in with me crutch.’
Next day, after staying up late the previous evening drafting out her ideas for a shop run by the men themselves, Cassy went to Cade’s study to put her proposition to him.
He listened intently to what she had to say. ‘I think you’re right,’ he said with a nod of approval. ‘Perhaps I should have seen it coming, but I didn’t. The merchants and industrialists on my lists are always very open-handed when it comes to giving publicly at charity functions and paying lip service to helping those less fortunate than themselves, but it appears that they don’t practise what they preach.’
‘I think we were aiming too high. Perhaps we should have started off in a smaller way. Anyway, I won’t allow one setback to put an end to the men’s hopes and dreams. I started this and I’m going to see it through.’
Cade patted her on the shoulder. ‘Cassy, I’m proud of you. Go ahead with your plans and I’ll give you any help you need.’
She smiled. ‘Money is the main thing, Pa. Can I rely on you?’
‘You know you can, my love. You can have the top brick off the chimney, as my English nanny used to say.’
The next few weeks were spent in a flurry of activity. There were fittings not only for a gown for the wedding, but to Cassy’s astonishment Cade had insisted that both she and her mother were to have a whole new wardrobe. This also entailed visits to shoemakers, milliners and to department stores where they purchased gloves and stockings, not to mention lace-trimmed undergarments, stays and nightgowns. Cassy’s protests that it was all too much were swiftly quelled by her mother. ‘Darling, you must remember that your father has never had the chance to spoil his daughter. Allow him the pleasure of seeing you dressed like a lady.’ Belinda selected a fan from the array set before them by an eager shop assistant. She unfurled it and closed it again with a flick of her wrist. ‘I didn’t realise how much I missed having pretty things,’ she added with a mischievous smile. ‘I am a worldly creature, Cassy. You are much more like your father, and I admire what you’re doing for those poor unfortunate men who have given so much for Queen and country.’
‘It’s little enough, Ma. They’re all so brave and cheerful. I love them all and I want to do my best for them.’
Belinda angled her head. ‘What about Oliver? I know there was something going on between you two at Christmas.’
Cassy turned away as the ready flush flooded her cheeks. ‘He kissed me once, Ma. That’s all.’
‘I’ll take this one,’ Belinda said, handing the fan to the shop assistant who was shamelessly eavesdropping on their conversation. ‘Have it wrapped, if you please, and add it to my other purchases.’ She led Cassy away from the counter, making a show of looking at cashmere shawls hanging like angels’ wings from the ceiling. ‘You don’t have to explain to me, darling. Ollie is a charming boy and I don’t wonder that you are attracted to him.’
‘I’m not,’ Cassy said hastily. ‘I mean, I suppose I am, but there’s so much I want to do in life. I don’t want to be tied down by marriage and babies. Not yet anyway.’
Belinda chuckled, slipping her arm around her daughter’s waist. ‘You’ve plenty of time, my dear. All I want is to see you well established in life and above all happy. Now, what about the white shawl? It looks like a spider’s web in lace, and it will be just right for a hot climate.’ She clapped her hand over her mouth. ‘Now I’ve spoilt the surprise.’
‘What surprise? Why do I need something for a hot climate? What are you saying?’
‘George will be so cross with me,’ Belinda said, giggling. ‘But I was dying to tell you. It was supposed to be a surprise. We were going to spring it on you after the wedding.’
‘Ma, stop chattering like a magpie and tell me.’
‘George is going to take me back to India for our honeymoon, and we want you to come with us. We feel that you should see the land of your birth, and the place where your grandmother’s family came from. George thinks that if you come full circle you will be able to relate to both cultures, and there’s a possibility that we might be able to see Oliver and your friend Bailey, if it could be arranged. What do you say, Cassy?’
‘I – I can’t play gooseberry on your honeymoon, Ma.’
‘Darling, I’m not seventeen and this isn’t my first marriage. Your father and I both want this, Cassy. After all that has gone before we both think that it is important for us to be a family. Please don’t refuse before you’ve had time to think it over.’
Fingering the soft gossamer-like material of the shawl, Cassy raised her eyes to her mother’s face. She could see herself mirrored in their blue depths and she was overcome with emotion. She had tried hard to emulate Ma in everything she did, but she knew now that she was more like Cade. Perhaps that was why she had not warmed to him at first, but things were different now. She realised that the same blood ran in their veins, and that he was just as much a part of her as her beloved mother. She nodded her head slowly. ‘I’d love to come with you, Ma. And if I could see the boys, that would be wonderful. I’ve been so worried about both of them.’
Belinda uttered a cry of delight, bringing a sales assistant hurrying to her side.
‘Is there anything wrong, ma’am?’
‘No,’ Belinda said happily. ‘Everything is wonderful, thank you. We’ll take this shawl and the blue one too, and could you direct me to the department which sells cabin trunks?’
After days of searching, Cassy found a likely shop premises in Rowland’s Row almost exactly opposite the soldiers’ home. It could not have been in a better position. Goods could be transported across Stepney Green in a handcart, and it was only a short distance from Lemon’s Terrace. Cade signed the lease on behalf of the men and paid the required deposit and six months’ rent in advance. Although Cassy would have liked to spend more time preparing the premises for business, the wedding was only a few days away and arrangements had to be made for the voyage to India. This left her little choice but to put Jack in charge of overseeing the refurbishment of the shop, which had hitherto been the premises of a cobbler and before that an ironmonger. The smell of tanned leather and rusty nails still prevailed, but not for much longer if the men from the home had anything to do with it. When she was satisfied that they could manage on their own, Cassy left them to it and turned her attention to helping her mother prepare for her big day.
Then, much to everyone’s astonishment, Flora returned from Essex a married woman. She brushed aside their protests. ‘Mullins obtained a special licence,’ she said airily. ‘Dora and her daughter were witnesses and we were married in the village church.’
‘But Flora, we would have liked to be there.’ Belinda’s eyes filled with tears. ‘We’re still family even though we aren’t blood related.’
‘Oh, Lord. I knew you’d make a fuss, Belle, which is why we chose to do it quietly and without a song and dance. At our age, what does it matter anyway?’
‘Well, I think it’s romantic,’ Cassy said, giving her a hug. ‘It doesn’t matter how old or young you are, Aunt Flora. It’s lovely to think that you and Mr Mullins will have each other.’
Flora pulled a face. ‘Mullins will do as he’s told and I don’t have to keep coming back to this wretched hovel. At least I’ll have a degree of comfort in my old age, especially when I’ve finished modernising that draughty old farmhouse. Mullins doesn’t know it yet, but I have plans.’
Avoiding her mother’s gaze in case she burst out laughing, Cassy kissed Flora on the cheek. ‘I hope you’ll be very happy, and I can’t wait to visit you when we come back from India.’
‘Yes, Flora,’ Belinda said earnestly. ‘I was going to ask if you would oversee the removal of our things to Lemon’s Terrace, but I can see that you will be far too busy.’
‘Nonsense. I’m more than capable and my time is my own. I’ll see to it that Mrs Wilkins does the hard work. You’re to go on your honeymoon and leave everything to us.’
Cassy opened her mouth to ask if Flora and Farmer Mullins were going away on a romantic wedding trip, but Flora forestalled the question. ‘I know what you’re going to say, young Cassy, and the answer is no. We’re past all that sort of nonsense, and I’ll thank you not to giggle, miss. You’ll be old one day, like me.’
‘You’ll never be old, Aunt Flora. Not if you live to be a hundred.’
‘Humbug,’ Flora said sharply, but her lips twitched and she fluttered her eyelashes.
‘Well then,’ Belinda said, smiling. ‘Now all we’ve got to do is to make the final arrangement for next Monday. I can hardly believe that we’re getting married at last.’
Although Belinda and Cade had wanted a quiet wedding, St Dunstan’s Church was packed with well-wishers. The men from the home were there, some in Bath chairs pushed by the more able-bodied, and others who had walked the short distance with the aid of crutches. All the staff were there, including Mrs Porter who appeared to be remarkably sober, clean and tidy. Eli and Lottie sat in the front pew with Flora and Cassy, and on the opposite side of the aisle Mrs Wilkins and Freddie sat beside Dora and her daughter, a robust countrywoman who looked as though she would not stand for any nonsense.
The scent of summer flowers filled the cool air and the fragrance of roses, sweet peas and lilies mingled with a hint of mustiness from old hymnals and damp hassocks. At a signal from the verger standing in the doorway, the organist began to play the processional march, and heads turned to see Belinda walking down the aisle on Farmer Mullins’ arm. Cassy had always thought that her mother was beautiful but today she was a vision of loveliness in a deceptively simple gown of muslin and lace with a delicate wreath of rosebuds crowning her golden head. She looked radiant, like a young girl rather than a woman in her mid-thirties, and Cade obviously thought so too. Cassy’s heart missed a beat when she saw the rapt expression on his face. If she had any remaining doubts they were stripped away in that brief moment. She knew for a certainty that Cade loved her mother truly and deeply, and their love would last for eternity. Tears flowed down her cheeks but they were tears of joy.
Flora nudged her in the ribs. ‘For goodness’ sake,’ she hissed. ‘Stop blubbing. This is supposed to be a happy occasion.’
‘I am happy,’ Cassy whispered. ‘This is the best day of my life.’
The ceremony went off without a hitch and afterwards everyone congregated outside to congratulate the newlyweds. Cade invited everyone back to the house in Lemon’s Terrace where he had arranged for a small army of caterers to provide food and drink for the guests. Cassy had to admire his forethought, or perhaps he had known that it would be impossible for a man of his standing in the community to get away with a quiet wedding. It seemed that the gods were on their side as the weather was perfect. The birds trilled away in the churchyard trees and the wedding party walked in a slow procession to the house that would soon be Cassy’s new home. Inside it was almost unrecognisable. The builders, decorators and plumbers had left and the furniture, carpets and curtains had been set in place. The result was elegance without opulence, and comfort with style and good taste. Waiters in black tie and tails held silver trays laden with glasses of champagne ready to serve to thirsty guests, and there was fruit cup and ale for those whose tastes differed.
Cade and Belinda stood in the entrance hall to receive their guests and the once silent old house seemed to have taken on a new life, filled with the sound of laughter and conversation. The bride and groom were circulating and Cassy was just crossing the hall on her way to the dining room where the wedding breakfast had been laid out when someone crashed on the doorknocker. The girl newly employed as a parlour maid hurried to answer its urgent summons, and Cassy stood rooted to the spot as she saw the unmistakeable uniform of a telegram messenger boy. For a moment she could not move or breathe. It seemed that time itself had stood still. The maid was talking to her but all Cassy could see was the movement of the girl’s lips.
‘It’s for Lady Davenport,’ the maid repeated. ‘I dunno who she is, miss.’
Slowly, as if wading through a swamp, Cassy forced her feet to move and she managed somehow to take the envelope from the messenger. ‘It’s all right,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I’ll take it to her ladyship.’
‘Any reply, miss?’