I should fetch her back. She’ll barely have harnessed up yet. I should bring her in and reason with her, explain that she might regret her action, that people are bound to talk, that she has her own future to think of, a life of her own, a husband, children
.
On the distant horizon, the sea and sky fused together in a strong pencil line of aquamarine. She considered it for some time until the chill of the morning roused her. ‘It’s a long way off,’ she murmured. ‘Too far to see.’
She slipped the letter under her pillow and, climbing back into bed, she put her arm across William, gathering up his warmth. He turned towards her and sleepily opening his eyes he mumbled, ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Go back to sleep. Everything is fine.’
In one of the front bedrooms in Humber Villa in Anlaby, Isaac Rayner lay awake, thinking about his youngest son. James had come home from York and told them boldly that he wanted to go to London. ‘I want to train to be an artist,’ he’d announced, lifting his chin defiantly. ‘I hope eventually to be able to earn my own living and become independent.’
He’d looked at his mother as he spoke, hoping, Isaac was sure, for some response from her, perhaps implore him not to go, that she would, after all, prefer him to stay in spite of his alleged misdemeanour. But there was no acknowledgement, no signal even that he should take care amongst strangers and in a
strange city. Only a tightening of her lips and a hard swallow in her throat when he said that he was going to paint, and a paleness in her cheeks which only Isaac appeared to notice.
Isaac looked at his bedside clock: five o’clock. Another hour and he would get up. He’d told James that he would go with him to Hull to catch the London train. James had demurred, saying that he would walk into Anlaby and get a lift with the carrier.
At this, Mildred found her voice. ‘You cannot possibly ride in the carrier’s cart. Your father has offered to go with you. Do not be so churlish as to refuse him.’ It was then that Isaac saw anger in his son’s eyes as he stormed upstairs to pack a case, and knew that he would never return.
He heard a sound from the adjoining bedroom.
Mildred must be awake too. I wonder if she has slept, or like me, lain awake half the night?
He got out of bed and, putting on his dressing robe and velvet slippers, he padded to the door and listened. There was a sound of snuffling, of indrawn breaths, and he quietly opened the door. Mildred was sitting on a chair by the window. She must have been there for some time, for she had a blanket wrapped around her. Her bedgown was buttoned high up to her neck, and on her neatly curled head she wore a cotton bedcap.
‘Can you not sleep, my dear?’
She turned reddened eyes towards him. ‘You know I hardly ever sleep, Isaac. Why should today be any different?’
He nodded. She said she never slept, but often he had looked in on her during the early hours, and she was usually sleeping soundly. But her insomnia, as she called it, was one of the reasons for their separate bedrooms, and had kept him from her bed since their last infant had died.
‘I’m sorry, Mildred,’ he began. ‘So sorry that you can’t find it in your heart to forgive James.’ He had
his own doubts about the child’s parentage. James still had the aura of innocence. ‘But we must support him financially, even though I know that in view of the scandal you would prefer him to go away. He is so young,’ he appealed. ‘We all make mistakes when we are young.’
Her face started to crumple at his words and she turned away towards the window. He moved towards her and put his hand on her shoulder.
‘Don’t touch me!’ she cried. ‘You know I can’t bear it.’ She bent her head. ‘I’m sorry. But I just can’t bear it.’ Not since she had given birth to James had she wanted him near her, and only twice since, when he had appealed in despair to her, had she agreed. Anne and the unfortunate babe had been the result, giving her the perfect excuse that as she was so fertile and their family was complete, there was now no necessity for them to share the marital bed. He had not looked for consolation elsewhere, but instead had thrown himself wholeheartedly into the shipping company, working late hours for the last sixteen years, and only now when he thought that passion was finally spent, did he allow himself a little leisure time.
He looked down on her with compassion. She had been such a pretty little thing when he had first met her. Small and dark, and very vivacious, full of energy and vigour, totally unlike the woman she had since become. A woman of frustrated passions, wedded to the wrong man. And now the wheel had turned full circle.
‘It is time, I think, for us to talk, Milly.’
She looked up at the sound of her almost forgotten pet name and her eyes filled with tears. ‘You haven’t called me that in a long time, Isaac.’
‘You never wanted me to, my dear,’ he said softly. ‘You said it reminded you too much of your lost youth.’
‘So it did,’ she whispered. ‘But it doesn’t seem to matter any more.’
‘No,’ he said, looking down at her. ‘And soon the last reminder will be gone.’
She looked up at him suddenly, fear showing in her face.
‘James won’t come back,’ he said quietly. ‘You realize that, don’t you?’
‘What do you mean?’ Her voice was a strangled whisper.
‘I mean that once he gets away, he won’t return. He thinks that he is unwanted. I believe that he has always thought that.’
‘No.’ She stared up at him. Her face was pale and pinched. ‘I meant – when you said about the last reminder.’
He said nothing, but sat down in the basket chair opposite her and took hold of both her hands.
‘Isaac!’ she whispered. ‘What was it that you meant?’ She swallowed hard and withdrew one of her hands and pressed it against her lips. Her eyes were opened wide. ‘Isaac?’ Her voice cracked and trembled, but still he didn’t answer. After all these years, after all the misery he had suffered, why should he make it any easier for her?
But he wasn’t a hard man, rather he was full of compassion for his unhappy wife, warm-hearted, but with no place for his tenderness to fall.
‘You know?’ she whispered. ‘You’ve always known?’
He nodded. His eyes now filled with tears and he bent his head and kissed her hand. ‘I knew from the start,’ he mumbled, and reached into his pocket for a handkerchief. ‘It was so transparent, and if I hadn’t realized at the time, I would have known when James was born. Everyone said how much like you he was. But I knew. I knew from the moment he was born, that he was just like him.’
Isaac stood with James at the door of the carriage. ‘Now you’re sure you’ve got all you need for the journey, James? You’ve got enough money for
buying luncheon, and for your lodgings?’
‘Yes, Father, you’ve been more than generous with my allowance. I can’t thank you enough for being so understanding, especially about the child, even though I’m not—’
The guard waved his flag and he hastily put out his hand, but his father reached out with both his arms and hugged him. ‘You’ll write, James, won’t you? And you’ll try to come for Gilbert’s wedding? We’ll miss you. I’ll miss you. And don’t worry about your mother and Anne, they’ll come round eventually, and – and as for the child – yes, yes, something must be decided. We must do what we can.’
James nodded, but ignored the questions. ‘I’ll miss you too, Father, more than I can say.’ He looked very young and scared, but there was a bright look of excitement in his eyes. ‘You’ll be proud of me one day when I’m famous, and everyone is clamouring for me to paint their portraits. You’ll be able to say, that’s my famous son!’
Isaac gave him a trembling smile. ‘I’m proud of you now, James. Don’t ever think that I’m not.’
It was still quite early and a bright morning, so Isaac sent the carriage on, telling Spence that he would walk to the office from the railway station.
He wanted to walk in order that he could think. A brisk walk, a look at the ships in the docks or in the Old Harbour, would clear his head and put his problems into perspective. And he wanted to think of James, and of the child, and of Mildred. He had felt an ache in his heart as the train drew away in a great cloud of steam, and James, with his curly black hair blowing, reached out of the carriage window to wave good-bye. He had never thought of James as being anyone but his own son, even though he had always known that he belonged to another man. James had always had a special place in his affections, perhaps because Mildred had spurned him. Spurned him, not because she didn’t
love him, but because he reminded her of her lost love.
‘Do you ever think of him?’ he had asked her this morning, as they sat by the window watching the dawn rise.
‘Not a day passes,’ she said, looking at him with such sorrow that he could have wept, ‘that I wonder where he is and if he ever thinks of me.’
And as he watched her he saw, not the middle-aged woman with the lines of age around her eyes, but the beauty of the woman who had once been his and whom someone else had stolen from him.
He stood now on the staith side outside his company building, looking down at the muddy water and the ships moored there, and wondered how passion could last so long. Yet when he had first seen them together, when they had first met, he knew that it was the meeting of twin souls. He suddenly felt very tired, so he rested against a bollard and watched as a Liverpool steamer was being loaded with goods. His hands were cold and he thrust them deep into his greatcoat pocket, and felt the slip of paper which James had given him with the address where he could be contacted.
‘Excuse me, sir.’
The voice came from behind him and Isaac turned round. When he turned he grimaced as a pain tore across his shoulders and down his arm.
‘Mr Rayner, sir?’
‘Yes.’
The man was unknown to him. He wasn’t one of their regular workers, nor, he thought, one of the casual men, though he didn’t know them all by sight. But then, this man didn’t look like a labouring man; his face was too pale, as if he spent a deal of time indoors, and his clothes were thin and though mended with even thinner patches, were not at all suitable for outdoor work. Isaac glanced down at the man’s boots, they were stuffed with paper, the toecaps
had been cut away to accommodate his feet, and they had no laces.
He put his hand into his waistcoat pocket to take out a coin, one of two which he always kept for beggars, should he be asked.
‘Is there any work, sir? I’ll do owt. Cleaning out ’holds or privies. I’m not fussy.’
He wasn’t pleading, nor being servile as sometimes those who searched for work were. It was as if he didn’t really expect anything; yet his eyes scrutinized Isaac’s face intently as he waited for his answer.
‘You’ll have to go to the yard and ask. See the foreman, he deals out the casual work.’ His words came out brusquely as he strove to release the tightness of his breath, but he felt uncomfortable under the man’s enquiring gaze.
‘I went there yesterday, they said there wasn’t owt, that’s why I waited to see thee, sir.’
‘I don’t hire the men, you’ll have to see the foreman,’ he repeated. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me.’ He rose to go and again fingered the coin. The man hadn’t asked for money; should he offer it?
The man shrugged and turned away, and then as if he’d bethought of something, turned back. ‘My wife was wondering about ’babby. How he’s fairing?’
Isaac stared at him, still clutching the coin between his fingers. ‘I’m sorry. What did you say?’
‘Our lass’s babby that thy son fathered. Missus has been bothered about him, forever moithering; she was wondering if tha kept him or sent him to ’workhouse?’
There was a blackness descending on him. It was gathering around him, sweeping over his eyes and ears like a thick black cloak, covering his mouth so that he couldn’t breathe and someone was pulling it tight, tighter and tighter around his chest. ‘My son!’ he gasped in a barely audible groan.
‘Aye. Thy son! I thought it was thee she meant at first, when she said Rayner, but on that morning that
she died I realized that it was thy lad that she meant. ’Young Rayner.’ He gave a harsh laugh. ‘She said that she could have loved him. She said she used to go and wait in a doorway, watching for him at ’yard in hope of seeing him. Love!’ He scorned. ‘What does anybody know of love.’
Love, Isaac thought, as he bent double in pain. Love is patience. It’s waiting and hoping and praying that it will come your way again.
‘Is tha poorly, sir? Mr Rayner!’
‘Yes.’ Isaac sank to his knees on the wharf side. He feared he was going to be sick. ‘Get help! Get my son. Gilbert!’
Gilbert after all. Not James. James had gone. Sent away because his mother couldn’t bear to watch him grow in his father’s likeness.
As he fell, the coin slipped from his fingers and started to roll away towards a stack of packing cases. The man watched it in its convolutions. There was a loaf of bread and a pinch of tea. Or a jar of ale in which to drown your sorrows. He looked down at Isaac Rayner as he lay sprawled on the ground. Money makes no odds at ’end, he thought. No odds at all. He put his fingers to his lips to whistle and a porter at the other end of the staith looked up.
‘Fetch help!’ he shouted. ‘’Mayster here is sick.’
When he looked down again the coin had disappeared. He peered between the wooden crates. He could see it. Too far inside for him to stretch his fingers and retrieve it. He grimaced and pulled up his coat collar as he walked away. Somebody would find it. He hoped it was somebody worse off than he was. But he doubted it. It was an unfair world.
When Gilbert arrived at the company in his usual haste, he was given the news that his father was very ill and had been taken to the Infirmary. He looked down at his unconscious father in the hospital bed, and knew that there was little hope of a full recovery.
If, in fact, there was hope at all, for the doctor had pursed his lips and shaken his head, said that he couldn’t guarantee anything, and that Mrs Rayner should be sent for immediately. He raced to Anlaby and found that his mother was still in bed and his sister preparing to go out.
‘You must cancel your arrangements,’ he told Anne. ‘Mother will need you. As soon as she is up I will take you both to the hospital.’