The Fall and Rise of Lucy Charlton (40 page)

‘My dear Lucy, your father is dying,’ he said gently.

‘There must be something—’

‘I will do all I can to make him comfortable in his last hours. It is a blessing in some ways. He would only have gone further downhill and surely he has had all the humiliation he can bear. Let him go. His time has come.’

‘It’s too soon.’ She sat down on the bed.

‘It is always too soon unless the patient is in pain. Your father is not in pain.’

‘He’s not conscious either.’

‘God willing,’ Dr Mackie said and he left.

Lucy wanted to pummel him into some kind of magic but she knew it was useless and he was right.

A short time later her mother and Gemma came upstairs. The children had gone to bed unusually early and the three of them sat there. It was almost companionable. From time to time one or the other would offer to make tea, but nobody wanted it. The light seemed to go early and darkness fell. Lucy wanted to open the window to hear the river and she didn’t know who suggested it but they did just that, and they watched the water tumble towards the sea through the open curtains.

From time to time her mother dozed. She was exhausted, Lucy thought. She’d had so many months of this as well as all the other problems which her two daughters had imposed. Lucy felt guilty and then she thought, it was how families were – awful and wonderful and somehow all there was.

She and Gemma didn’t sleep. They wandered over to the window as though the river was reassuring and it was; it kept going on and on when nothing else did.

Eventually even Gemma dropped off for a few minutes in the chair, but Lucy couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t reconcile
this dying man with the father she had loved so much. The man who had put her out of his house because he thought she had done wrong.

She sat there watching the reassuring way his chest went up and down. She could hear the cathedral clock striking the quarter, the half, the three-quarters and the hour. She heard it reach four and she was the only person awake.

Her father opened his eyes and looked mistily at her.

‘Lucy?’

‘Daddy.’

‘I thought you had gone.’

‘No, I’m right here.’

‘I’m so glad you are. I missed you,’ he said. He reached for her hand, closed his eyes and went on breathing.

A few seconds later his breaths seemed to cease and then they began again. Just when she was thinking that he would go on living he took a great last breath which resounded in his chest and then he lay still.

*

He was a huge loss. There seemed so little to occupy them, the house empty without his great wheelchair. Luckily he had made provision some time since to pay for his funeral. Her mother did not have need to be ashamed that they could not afford to bury him in proper style.

His friends and business acquaintances and a lot of other people came to his funeral – some out of respect and many out of love. Lucy remembered as the service went on the lawyer her father had been when she and Gemma were small children. How he had helped people, even so far as to give them money as well as his skills free of charge, which was
exactly what she would now be able to carry on. She determined to do it, no matter what.

She knew now that that had made her want to be a lawyer so that she could try to find some kind of justice for people. There was a very long way to go, especially for women. She thought the law treated them badly and she must help, attempt to change things for them and their children. She remembered how kind her father had always been to everyone; he wanted no one to have to face the law alone because he knew that it was inadequate, and always would be, though it tried.

She stood and listened and sang, and watched her mother’s white face and Gemma’s grey one. It was never just the present that a wife lost, she thought, it was all the memories of your life and the future you might have had if your husband had been in his right mind and lived a little longer. It was thieving of a kind because for the past few years her mother had not had a husband but only an invalid.

Lucy doubted that her mother had forgotten the lovely years when her children were small and the sweet times when they would go to the seaside in the summer. She would take her children to church in new outfits for Easter and when the days were dark they would sit over the fire.

A good many people came back to the house and she was glad to see Joe and the two Misses Slaters. She spoke to them briefly. The Misses Slaters were at home on such occasions. Funerals had always been part of their lives and they were invaluable, going around and talking to people, those they knew and those they might have known and even those they had never met before. Mrs Formby was there too with Tilda.
She was so glad to see them, so grateful they had come, even though Tilda was very white-faced and Mrs Formby looked tired.

Later, when most of the people had left and Mrs Formby and Tilda were about to leave, Lucy took Mrs Formby aside in the hall.

‘If everything all right?’ she asked.

Mrs Formby looked bravely at her.

‘Of course it is, lass. And isn’t it typical of you to go worrying about other people on the day you bury your father.’ Mrs Formby had a habit of touching Lucy’s face, which Lucy missed, and she did it now. The tears welled in Lucy’s eyes. And then Mrs Formby kissed her.

‘We do miss you, you’re such a grand lass. Come and see us some time when things are easier and if there’s anything at all that we can do to help we will.’ She nodded towards Tilda. ‘She’s got herself a lad. She was bound to in time.’ Mrs Formby smiled into Lucy’s eyes.

Mrs Formby went to Lucy’s mother then and to Gemma and to the children. Lucy was sure, even though she couldn’t hear it, that Mrs Formby said all the right things because her mother smiled just a little and the children looked up at her while she slipped them sweets she had brought. She kissed Gemma and touched her cheek too and Lucy could not help being just a little bit jealous. Mrs Formby was her friend. She wished she wouldn’t go; the house would be darker without her.

Joe merely pressed Lucy’s hand before he left with the Misses Slaters, and neither of them could think of anything to say.

Lucy had been in Durham, trying to talk to Emily. She still thought that Emily should leave, that if she didn’t she would end up as some kind of aunt to Norah’s child, and though she was certain that would suit Norah’s family it was not nearly enough for Emily. She should go south. Joe had set up connections there and Lucy was sure Lady Toddington would do everything she could to help even though Emily had hesitated so far. When Emily finally agreed Lucy was quite pleased with her efforts.

Lucy didn’t want to go back to Newcastle; there was nothing but problems at home. She had no idea what she could possibly do next except go on looking for work of any kind. She tried to comfort herself with the idea that something good must happen in the end, it just must, but she didn’t know how she could go forward.

The nearer to home she got the more she wished she could have stayed in Durham. She stepped down from the train in Newcastle and began to make her way through the early evening crowds. People were going home, some of them from work. She envied each of them.

She thought she saw someone she knew. She wasn’t sure but she stopped and watched. The woman was taller than most and there was something about her stance, her height, her hat which looked familiar to Lucy. At first she didn’t know who it was, certainly nobody she knew well, but they had met before, she was certain of it. She began to push through the crowds, back towards the train, though she wasn’t quite sure why, and then she paused. She had lost sight of the woman. She stopped. No, there was no one of that look in sight. Lucy didn’t know why it had seemed to matter.

Steam rose in front of her as she got nearer to the train, but it was no good, the woman had gone. Lucy was not even sure now that it was someone she knew, then in a kind of flash of recognition she remembered and she knew now why. The woman was Lady Toddington. How strange, and how unlikely.

Lucy searched the station. She looked at every train. She ran over the footbridge. She ran up and down again and again trying to find her, to see what she was doing here in Newcastle, but the woman was not there.

She ran out of the station and into the traffic, but if Lady Toddington had been heading out here she was long gone. Lucy was so frustrated. She walked home, her problems forgotten. She didn’t think any more about the poverty which awaited them if they didn’t do something soon.

Once home she was caught up in putting the twins to bed, Gemma was at work, then she went and sat by the fire. Her mother always went to bed early now, as though she had grown old since her husband had died and all her hope was gone. She was quieter than she had ever been.

Lucy didn’t mention the woman she had thought she saw. She lay awake all night and in the morning, though she could not explain her extravagance, she went out on the pretence of looking for work with a particular company and took the train back to Durham.

It was a Thursday morning and Joe and Mr Palmer were hard at work. To her delight Clay was there too. Joe didn’t ask her what she wanted, but he immediately offered to take her out for some breakfast since it was still early and she was glad of that. She didn’t eat much at home, she left most of it for the children and for her mother. Gemma did the same. Joe took her to the Silver Street café and when she said she would have tea and toast he ordered a full English breakfast for her. Lucy protested.

‘I’m not hungry. I had breakfast before I came.’

‘That’s why you’re so fat,’ Joe said.

The smell of the food made her even hungrier. The waitress brought tea. Joe told her all about Mr Eve and how he was going to help finance the car production.

‘And I went to Darling’s bank and they gave me a loan – because Mr Eve is backing us and he’s so well-known and reputable.’

Lucy was glad for him. She hadn’t seen Joe happy like this before. She debated with herself as to whether she should tell him about Lady Toddington, but there was no way round it. The food arrived but Lucy didn’t feel hungry any more, remembering what she wanted to say to him and dreading it.

‘I came here for a reason,’ she said. ‘I thought I saw Lady Toddington on Newcastle station.’

Joe stared at her.

‘You only met once,’ he said.

‘She’s not the kind of woman you miss. What would she be doing here?’

‘She wouldn’t be here,’ Joe said. ‘I don’t think the woman’s ever been further north than Regent’s Park.’

‘Joe, I’m sure it was her.’

‘So what was she doing?’ Joe threw her a sceptical glance and then picked up his knife and fork. He cut a fried egg in half as viciously as though it had done something to him so that the yolk cascaded over everything else on his plate. ‘Did you see her get on a train?’

‘Well, no, but—’

‘Did you see her get off?’

‘I didn’t see anything. She disappeared.’

‘Eat your breakfast before it gets cold,’ Joe advised, pointing at her plate with his knife.

‘Why don’t you believe me?’

‘Because it’s a ridiculous idea.’

‘So you won’t come to London with me then, to find out about it?’ she said, not knowing she was going to say anything quite that odd.

Joe stared.

‘You don’t mean it?’ he said.

‘I may be many things but I am not an idiot.’

‘You haven’t got enough money to get you as far as York,’ Joe said.

‘You can pay for it. You’re obviously about to either make a lot of money or lose your shirt. I’d better have it before you get involved.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it. It’s completely stupid.’

‘Stupid?’ Lucy glared at him. ‘I am trying to help you.’

‘I appreciate it.’

‘No, you don’t! You think I don’t know what I see.’

‘I just think you’re mistaken,’ Joe said patiently and set about eating his breakfast.

‘You could come with me. You know them very well.’

‘I’m not doing anything of the kind,’ he said.

‘Well then I shall go by myself.’

‘Not if I have to pay for it.’

‘I shall pawn my father’s pocket watch.’

Joe went on eating. Lucy got up and walked out. She had reached as far as the pavement by the time he caught up with her.

‘Will you wait?’

‘No, I will not. You are very rude and since you don’t believe me we have nothing more to discuss.’

‘It’s a wild goose chase – and for what?’

‘Is it? Is that really what you think?’ She did stop then. Joe, who was half a pace ahead of her, wheeled round.

‘I do understand what you’re trying to do,’ he said simply, ‘but really there is nothing to be gained. I know that my mother is dead, I’ve seen her grave, and I’ve learned to accept that I have lost Angela. I am just beginning to put my life back together. I would like a little peace to be able to do it. I can’t raise my hopes again. I just can’t do it. If it was Toddy’s mother then maybe she has a friend here or she was on the way to somewhere. There will be a perfectly sensible reason for her being here if it really was her. Leave it alone, Lucy, please.’

She set off walking again and this time he let her.

*

When Joe got back that night he went upstairs and took out one of the unread letters – there were only a few left. He didn’t want to think about Angela at all any more but somehow his life kept getting dragged back that way.