A Mother's Trust (13 page)

Judy shrugged her thin shoulders. ‘There’s no hurry. Tell the truth I’m enjoying the diversion. For years I
slaved
away running this lodging house for Ma, and looked after her while she was ill. Now it’s nice to see other people in a worse state than myself. I might even let you stay for a few days, if you don’t mind sharing the attic room with the spiders and mice.’

Dolly clambered to her feet. ‘I don’t mind spiders and I once had a pet mouse. He used to come out at night and keep me company when the others was asleep, but he died. Everything dies in the end.’

‘We won’t think about that now,’ Phoebe said, giving her an encouraging smile. ‘Let’s get this mess cleared away and then perhaps Cousin Judy would show us where we can put our things.’

‘Like I said before, it’s only temporary, so don’t get ideas about staying here for the winter.’ Judy rose to her feet and unhooked a bunch of keys from a nail in a beam over her head. She handed it to Phoebe. ‘It’s the door opposite the stairs on the top floor. And call me Judy. I’m your ma’s cousin for my sins, not yours, and we won’t go into the second cousin business. Just Judy will do nicely.’

‘It’s very good of you, Judy.’ Annie made an attempt to rise but sank back onto the bench with a sigh. ‘If I might go to our room I’d like to rest awhile. I get very tired these days and we’ve had a long journey.’

Judy eyed her askance. ‘Rest now then, but don’t think you’re going to get away with lazing about when there’s work to do. I earn my living by taking in lodgers. They’re entertainers for the most part, although some of them take other jobs in the winter. There’s not much call for Punch and Judy on the beach in November.’

‘Punch and Judy.’ Dolly stared at her open-mouthed. ‘Does he punch you, miss? I wouldn’t let him stay here if I was you.’

Judy turned to Phoebe, frowning. ‘Take her with you. I’ve no patience with simpletons, and to save the poor soul racking what’s left of her brains we’ll call it the Punch and Jessie show. It’s an embarrassment having my name plastered all over the seafront in summer. I wish the old girl had called me anything but Judy.’

‘Come along, Dolly.’ Phoebe reached out to take her hand. ‘Let’s go upstairs to see the spiders and mice. You might find a pet amongst them.’

As they left the room, Dolly glanced over her shoulder at Judy. ‘She don’t have no bruises, Phoebe. If he punches her he does it so they won’t show. That’s what Ma did to me until she forgot herself.’

‘For God’s sake stop babbling, Dolly.’ Annie turned on her with an exasperated sigh. ‘You’re making my head spin with your idiotic prattle.’

‘I ain’t an idiot,’ Dolly whispered in Phoebe’s ear. ‘Am I?’

Phoebe gave her a hug. ‘Ma’s in a delicate condition and she’s worn out. You take one of her bags and I’ll take the other. Let’s see what Judy’s attic has to offer.’

The room was long and low-ceilinged with a window in the roof that when prised open overlooked the sea. The rain-washed slates glistened as a pale sun forced its way between the dark clouds and glinted in golden lights off the pebbles as the ebb tide licked the shore.
Until
today Phoebe had only seen the sea when they crossed the Channel on the packet boat, and then she had marvelled at its vast expanse and the power of the foam-flecked waves. Listening now, in the quiet at the top of the house, the sound of the waves on the foreshore was like music to her ears, with only the mournful cries of the seagulls wheeling overhead and the occasional rumble of a horse-drawn vehicle to break the hypnotic rhythm. After the noisy hubbub of London it seemed like paradise. She had loved the great blue lakes in northern Italy but there was something endless and timeless about the sea. When she stood on the busy wharves overlooking the river she could imagine the muddy waters of the Thames flowing into the North Sea, and being cleansed by inclusion in the vast body of salt water.

‘Here, shut that bloody window, I’ll catch me death of cold.’

Her mother’s voice broke into her reverie and Phoebe did as she was told, but even though the grimy windowpanes shut out the sea and sky, she knew they were still there.

‘This is disgusting,’ Annie said, prodding the straw palliasse with her foot. ‘I’m not sleeping on the floor for anyone. I suppose Judy thinks this is funny.’

Phoebe glanced round the room, which was just an open space beneath the rafters. There were signs that it had been used recently, but the previous occupants had not bothered to make their quarters habitable. Perhaps maidservants had slept up here in bygone days when the family had money, but the cobwebs
and
bare floorboards bore testament to the fact that this part of the house had been neglected for a very long time. Annie sneezed as a cloud of dust rose up like a spectre from the bedding. ‘It’s nothing that a bit of elbow grease won’t cure, Ma,’ Phoebe said hopefully. ‘We’ll take the palliasses down to the yard and I’ll give them a good beating.’

‘They’re probably running with fleas and lice. I’m used to a feather bed.’ Annie sat down on a spindly chair which wobbled dangerously, one leg appearing to be shorter than the others. ‘I’d sooner sleep on the beach than up here.’

Phoebe went to her side and slipped her arm around her mother’s shoulders. ‘You’re exhausted, Ma. We’ll make ourselves as comfortable as possible for tonight and then in the morning I’ll go out and find somewhere else for us to stay. It’s just one night and it will offend Judy if we don’t accept her offer.’

‘Bah!’ Annie almost spat the word at her. ‘Judy is a bitch. She always was and she’s not changed. No doubt she’s thoroughly enjoying the sight of me in my present condition and with no man to protect me. She was always jealous of me. I won’t stay where I’m not wanted. We’re leaving first thing in the morning, and that’s that.’

Next morning at breakfast Phoebe came face to face with Judy’s lodgers. Annie had remained in bed, saying that she was unwell and refusing to take even a cup of weak tea, but Dolly was eager to meet their fellow residents. She perched on the end of the bench munching toast as she listened to the introductions
being
made by Judy, who was in charge of the enormous brown china teapot and named each person as she refilled their cups. The first to greet them was a large man with a flaming red beard and a bald pate, which made his head look as though it had been put on upside down. He half rose from his seat. ‘Good morning, ladies. I am Herbert Jackson, entertainer and puppeteer.’ He motioned Phoebe to sit down and squeezed onto the bench beside her. ‘I give the Punch and …’ Receiving a fierce look from Judy he corrected himself. ‘I give the Punch and the person we do not name in this house shows on the beach.’

‘With my help, Poppa,’ Rose said chirpily. ‘Don’t forget me.’ She smiled at Phoebe and reached across the table to shake her hand. ‘I’m the one who gets the bookings and takes the money from the audience. I’m the business brains, aren’t I, Poppa?’

‘You are, my pet.’ Herbert smiled indulgently. ‘My little Rose is my right hand, so to speak. When her mother passed on she took over my management and saved me from sinking into a life of drink and debt.’

‘Ma ran off with the theatre manager in Bournemouth,’ Rose said, her smile fading. ‘They went to Blackpool and that was the last we heard of them, but we manage well enough on our own.’

‘We do, my dove.’ Herbert turned to a small man with mutton-chop whiskers and a waxed moustache who had nudged him in the ribs. ‘What is it, Fred, old chap?’

‘My introduction, cully. Don’t forget the supporting acts.’

Herbert inclined his head. ‘Of course. I’m sorry, I was forgetting my manners. Miss Giamatti, may I introduce Fred Jones, also known as Armando Janos, who is by profession a world famous sword swallower and juggler.’

Fred smiled modestly. ‘That is true, but out of season I clean windows. My former act as a high wire walker gave me a head for heights, until I fell and broke my leg in three places. I’m a martyr to rheumatism, Miss Giamatti, but I can still climb a ladder, although it gets harder each winter.’

Phoebe smiled and nodded but was prevented from responding by the woman seated next to Rose on the opposite side of the table. ‘And I am Madame Galina Lavrovna. I trained at the Imperial Ballet School in St Petersburg and performed for the crown heads of Europe.’

‘That was several lifetimes ago, love.’

All heads turned to the small woman seated at the far end of the table. She looked round with a pained expression on her wizened features. ‘I only speak the truth.’

Madame Galina subsided into her double chins, blushing furiously. ‘That was cruel, Augusta, even by your standards. I was the toast of St Petersburg for a whole season.’

‘And now you are burnt toast, love.’ Augusta winked at Phoebe, mouthing the words ‘she drinks’.

‘That’s not fair, Gussie. Everyone likes a drop of something warming in the winter to keep out the cold.’ Madame Galina cast an appealing glance at Phoebe.
‘I
daresay you like a tot of buttered rum punch on a bitter winter’s night, don’t you, love?’

‘Well, I er …’ Phoebe looked to Herbert for help but he shook his head. ‘Sometimes, Madame,’ she said, not wanting to hurt the woman’s feelings. ‘But I’d love to hear about the Russian ballet when you have time.’

‘Oh, she’s got time, love,’ Gussie said, reaching for another slice of toast. ‘Her ladyship works behind the bar in a pub. How have the mighty fallen.’

Madame Galina subsided in a flood of tears, covering her face with a large white handkerchief.

‘That was unkind, Gussie,’ Rose said in an undertone. ‘Why do you always have to upset her?’

‘Because now I’ve got a chance to get my own back and I enjoy it.’

‘What do you do now, Miss Augusta?’ Phoebe asked in an attempt to steer the conversation away from the unfortunate Galina.

Gussie squinted short-sightedly at her. ‘Ho, I see someone’s got manners round here. Well, young lady, I’ll tell you what I do. I spend my days making bonnets for rich women with more money than taste. I could still have my job in the theatre if it wasn’t for Madame’s weakness for grog. The dreadful addiction to strong drink lost her every booking she ever had.’

‘I don’t know why you stay with her then, Augusta,’ Judy said, refilling her cup with yet more tea. ‘Why don’t you move on?’

Madame Galina blew her nose loudly. ‘I’m still here,’ she muttered. ‘I heard everything you said, you bitch, Gussie.’

Ignoring her quivering friend, Gussie turned her attention to Judy. ‘I pay me rent, don’t I? I don’t owe you nothing, Judy Edwards.’

‘That’s true, but you give us all earache with your continual sniping at poor Galina. Leave her alone, I say. Or find some other digs.’ Judy slammed the teapot down on the table. ‘I’m sick of listening to you carping day in, day out. It’s your choice, Augusta. I could fill your room ten times over without any bother.’

Dolly, who had been silently absorbing this interchange from the beginning whilst munching toast and jam, suddenly burst into tears. ‘Please don’t shout at each other.’

Phoebe put her arm around Dolly’s shoulders. ‘She’s a bit sensitive since the operation.’

‘Operation?’ It was said in a chorus as all eyes turned to Dolly, the differences between Augusta and Galina apparently forgotten.

Dolly pulled off her mobcap to reveal her shaven head and the livid scar on the side of her skull. ‘They cut me brain. I’m a phenomenon, whatever that means. The doctors told me so.’

‘Wonderful,’ Herbert cried enthusiastically. ‘She would make an excellent side show. People would pay good money to see a phenomenon.’

‘Dolly’s not for show,’ Phoebe said hastily. ‘She’s still on the road to recovery and needs rest.’

‘We all have to make a living, love.’ Herbert tugged at his beard and for a moment Phoebe thought it might be glued on, but it remained firmly in place. ‘If it’s
good
enough for my Rose, it should be considered suitable for young Dolly.’

Phoebe realised then that she had touched on a tender spot. She laid her hand on his arm. ‘I’m sorry. No offence meant, Mr Jackson.’

‘None taken, I’m sure.’ Rose leapt to her feet. ‘Come on, Poppa. We’ve got to get to the theatre.’

‘Are you performing there?’ Phoebe seized the opportunity to steer the conversation to safer ground.

‘We understudy the actors,’ Rose said gravely. ‘But mostly we’re front of house.’

‘That sounds exciting.’ Phoebe looked to Herbert for confirmation but he appeared to have taken umbrage and he stood up abruptly, tipping up the bench so that Dolly slid to the floor in a flurry of petticoats and peals of laughter. This broke the ice and everyone joined in, even Herbert. He was moved to smile graciously at Phoebe. ‘If you are looking for work I might be able to find you something at the theatre, even if it’s selling programmes or clearing up after the performance.’

‘Thank you. That’s very kind of you, but I was planning to continue the work I’ve been doing with Ma in London.’

‘Don’t tell me she’s got you telling fortunes and conducting sham séances?’ Judy impaled a slice of bread on the tines of a toasting fork with unnecessary force.

‘It’s not entirely make believe,’ Phoebe said mildly. ‘I know some of it’s a put up job, but not all. There are times when I believe that Ma really can see into the future, and sometimes it happens to me too.’

‘You have the gift then?’ Fred was suddenly alert. ‘You could make a fortune on the seafront in summer.’

Rose and her father were halfway to the door but Herbert stopped and turned to stare at Phoebe. ‘Have you ever done your act on stage?’

‘It’s not an act, Mr Jackson.’

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘It’s all the same thing, dearie. Conjuring, magic, illusion or foretelling the future is all an act. We have our resident illusionist and magician Caspar Collins and his assistant, the lovely Hyacinth, but you never know when she might need an understudy. Visit the theatre as I suggested, and we might find something for you.’

‘Thank you, I will.’

Herbert seized Rose by the hand. ‘Come along, my pet. We have no time to waste.’ He swept her out of the room as if they were exiting the stage.