Shanghai Sparrow (17 page)

“It’s raining.”

“Yes, it is, isn’t it? Never mind, I shall go on my own; I don’t want you or Charlotte to catch cold.”

“You’ve dropped some of your papers, Mama.” Eveline could see a triangle of paper poking out from under the table.

“Have I?” Mama glanced down. “Oh, that was stupid.” She pushed her chair back and stood up. “Eveline, come here.” She knelt down on the floor. When Eveline got closer she could see that the scrap of paper was not lying on the floor, but poking out between two floorboards. Mama took her letter-knife and levered the board up. Underneath was a biscuit tin, sporting a picture of a boy holding a dog on the lid. The boy wore blue breeches and a blue jacket with a lace collar. His cheeks were so round and rosy they made her want to bite into them like apples. The dog was black and white with floppy ears. The dog looked nicer than the boy. Mama opened it, and shoved the scrap of paper into it. “This is Mama’s hiding place. You mustn’t tell anyone, Evvie, do you understand?” She slid the box back into hiding, and put the board down – there, it was all concealed again. Now you couldn’t tell the board from all the others, except for a slight splintered place along one edge where the letter-knife had gone in.

“Why are you hiding papers, Mama?”

“Because I don’t want Uncle James to find them.” Mama looked distracted, turning the letter-knife over in her hands. “What he’s taken already shouldn’t be sufficient... I made sure the essentials weren’t there, but it looks plausible enough if one doesn’t know the underlying principles...”

“Mama?”

“Never mind, Evvie. Just remember that these are Mama’s notes and Uncle James mustn’t know of them, nor anyone. Not even Charlotte.”

“Yes, Mama.”

“Now come here and give Mama a kiss. Is Charlotte awake? I think it’s time for some breakfast, don’t you?”

A
FTER THAT THINGS
were quieter for a while. Mama even smiled one day, telling Eveline that Uncle James had invited a man to the house to speak with her. “I do believe he’s attempting matchmaking, Evvie, imagine! How foolish. As though I could ever find a man as understanding as your dear papa. And what a curious fellow he was – so many questions! I was polite, of course, but answered him very shortly, and left him in no doubt I was a thoroughly dull bluestocking! I think I have poured sufficient cold water to dampen any romantic thoughts. He came out of Uncle James’s study as I was coming upstairs, looking very grim.”

“Why would he talk to Uncle James?”

“Because, darling, Uncle James is my only male relative, and if anyone wished to marry me it would be considered proper for them to ask his permission.”

“What if I wanted to marry someone?”

“Then they would have to ask me. Why, is there someone you want to marry?” Mama smiled.

“No, not at all. I don’t know any boys.”

“You don’t know many people at all, do you, my poor pet?” Mama looked worried again, and Eveline felt she had said something wrong, but wasn’t sure what it had been.

A week later Uncle James had invited another man. Eveline, who felt a personal interest in potential stepfathers, hoped this one might be someone Mama could like. Anything, surely, would be better than this horrible unfriendly house and wretched Uncle James who made her so unhappy.

She decided to eavesdrop. Mama said she was a noticing girl, and often asked her opinion; perhaps she would ask Evvie about her beau.

Eveline managed to conceal herself under the ottoman in the drawing-room, but it was not a very good hiding place: all she could see of the gentleman was a pair of highly polished shoes and the tip of an equally polished cane.

After the usual pleasantries, this man, too, started asking questions.

“Councillor Lathrop tells me you have been somewhat troubled.”

“James is overly concerned, Dr Bower. He thinks I have a weak constitution. I assure you I am quite robust.”

“But I understand you have a hobby involving mechanisms, on which you spend a great deal of time. Do you not find that leaves you fatigued?”

“Surely, if something is only a hobby, it is a source of amusement and relaxation, not fatigue?”

“Mechanisms are an unusual pastime for a lady.”

“Yes.”

“You have two children, I understand.”

“Daughters.”

“And have they, too, shown such an inclination?”

“The youngest is barely two, she is a little young to be showing an inclination towards anything.”

“And the older?”

“Oh, Eveline is a bright girl, she manages to keep herself occupied. She can figure well enough, but she shows no signs of following in my footsteps.”

“I see. It must be a great strain on you, bringing up two daughters alone.”

“Living here, surrounded by servants and under my brother’s constant supervision, I would hardly say I am alone.”

“You feel surrounded?”

“Only occasionally. More tea?”

The conversation was dull. Eveline dozed off in her hiding place, only waking to the scrape of chairs. “Well, this has been a most enlightening conversation, Mrs Duchen,” the man said. “I am sure we will have the pleasure of meeting again.”

“Good afternoon, Dr Bower.”

Eveline waited until it was safe, and crept out, dusting down her pinafore. On her way back to her room, she heard Dr Bower’s voice coming from Uncle James’s study, but she couldn’t hear the words. Was he asking Uncle James for permission to pay court to Mama? Eveline hoped not. She hadn’t taken to him, despite the shininess of his shoes.

E
VELINE WOKE THINKING
Charlotte had cried out, but the little girl was sleeping quietly. A moment later she heard the shift-change whistle at the mill. It was later than they usually rose. Mama’s bed was empty. Maybe she had worked all night. Sometimes she did, but she always came in to rouse the girls for breakfast.

The door of her workroom was locked. “Mama?” Eveline knocked. “Mama, are you there? Do you want breakfast?” But there was no answer.

Eveline went downstairs.

But neither Mama nor Uncle James was anywhere to be found. She saw the servants pausing to watch her as she passed. Creeping dread started to churn in her stomach and weaken her legs. One of the maids was brushing the carpet in the dining-room. Eveline planted herself in front of her. “Have you seen my mama?”

“Oh, dear...” The maid looked over her shoulder as though afraid of someone, and said, “No, well, a carriage left this morning...”

“Girl! Are you
gossiping with your betters?
” Uncle James’s manservant had appeared in the doorway, and was looking down his thin nose at them both. “Get back to your work at once,” he said.

The maid scrambled to her feet, clutching the dustpan to her apron, and scurried out of the room.

“Miss Eveline, your uncle wishes to see you,” the manservant said.

“I don’t want to see him, I want to see Mama.”

“Well this is your uncle’s house and you are obliged to do as he says. Will you go, or shall I carry you?”

“If you try to pick me up, I shall bite you,” Eveline said. “Where is my mama?”

“If you want to find out, you’ll go see your uncle. He’s in his study.”

Eveline lifted her chin and walked past him. As she did so he bent down and said, “I would advise you to mind your manners, young lady – unless you want to end up in the poorhouse.”

The walk to Uncle James’s study seemed very long. And there were servants everywhere – the hall and stairs need extra special cleaning this morning, it seemed. Even the cook had emerged from ruling over the kitchens to stare. He and the manservant nodded meaningfully at each other. “Well
I
wasn’t at all surprised,” the cook said, hardly bothering to lower his voice. “The child’s a positive savage. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

And then she was in Uncle James’ study, and Uncle James was sitting behind his desk.

“Ah, Eveline.”

“Where’s Mama?”

Uncle James sighed, looking down at his hands, as they took a pen out of the inkwell, put it back, turned over a piece of paper... as though his hands were nothing to do with him, acting entirely on their own. “Uncle James?”

He frowned at her. “This is very difficult for me, Eveline. This whole thing is extremely distressing.”

“Uncle James?”

“Your mama has been behaving in an increasingly erratic manner, Eveline. Making wild accusations. She was even talking about leaving, attempting to set up some sort of business in the town – one can easily imagine how that would have ended, and my reputation would be ruined.”

“Where is she?”

“Madeleine has had to go away.” Uncle James heaved himself out of his chair and stood with his back to Eveline, staring out of the window. “Really, it is all dreadfully awkward.”

“But where is she?”

“In a place where her eccentricities can be dealt with.”

“But when is she coming back?”

“She will come home if her behaviour can be controlled, if she can stop making these ridiculous claims.”

“I don’t understand. Who has she gone to see?”

Uncle James reached for the bell-pull and yanked viciously. “No-one. She is being treated.”

“Is she sick?”

“Yes. She is mentally unwell. Suffering from hysteria, and delusions.”

Eveline did not know what either of those words meant, but they sounded worse than the croup or even the scarlet fever, that Mama had been so afraid either of them might catch. She must be dreadfully ill. What if no-one was looking after her properly? “I want to go see her!”

“Certainly not. Children are not permitted in such places.”

“Why not?”

“It isn’t suitable. Where is that wretched maid? Flirting and gossiping no doubt, I really will have to speak to...”

“But what about Charlotte?”

“If you cannot deal with Charlotte, I suppose I will have to find some woman to take care of her. Which will be a great trouble and expense. Or perhaps she will have to be sent away where she can be suitably attended to.”

First Mama, and now Charlotte? “You can’t send Charlotte away!”

“Then you must look after her.” Uncle James turned around, and glared at her.

“But Mama...” Eveline’s breath began to hitch. Everything had happened so quickly, Mama was ill, and gone, and all in a night.

“Don’t blether, child. I can’t bear hysteria and blethering.”

Hysteria was what Mama had. If Eveline had it, too, she would be sent away, and then what would happen to Charlotte?

Eveline grabbed onto herself with everything she had, clamped down on the tears, and blew her nose. “Yes, Uncle James.”

And even when the maid appeared and ushered her upstairs, she did not cry, and she did not cry in front of Charlotte because what if hysteria was catching? And all through the next horrible weeks she straightened her mouth and blinked fiercely if the tears threatened, and fed Charlotte and read stories to her and every now and then would ask Uncle James if there was any news.

However quietly and calmly she asked, he always got angry, glaring and blustering and snapping that there was no change before ordering her out of his study. So Eveline started to sneak into the library when he wasn’t there, and look in his books for anything about hysteria. Perhaps she could find out something that would help Mama.

All she found was that hysteria was something only women had, and that it was to do with wombs. Eveline wasn’t sure what a womb was, so she asked Violet, who was the nicer of the two maids, but Violet didn’t know, except that it was something to do with babies. Eveline wondered if Mama was going to have another baby, and if that was making her ill, but the book used too many words she didn’t know and there was no-one else she trusted to ask.

Eveline and Charlotte were in a strange position in the house; not Important like Uncle James, but not quite servants either. With no-one to talk to, Eveline began to eavesdrop whenever she could, in case someone should happen to be talking about Mama. She never heard anything about Mama, but she heard about other things.

Violet the under maid was an orphan, and so didn’t get a day off to see her family like the other maid, Harriet, who was older and crosser. Harriet’s mother was ‘off her legs’ and couldn’t earn, and Harriet sneaked food from the pantry to take home to her. Both the maids were terrified of being turned off.

One day Harriet came up and told her she must come down for dinner. Eveline thought they were to come down and eat with the servants; it would be a relief to have some company. She pulled Charlotte to her feet.

“Just you,” Harriet said. “You’re to put on something appropriate, and wash, and come down and eat with your Uncle and his guests.”

“But what about Charlotte? Who’ll give her her supper?”

“I’ll do that.” Harriet kept her face still, but she was clearly resentful at the extra work. Eveline thought fast. Charlotte had been fussy and unsettled since Mama left, and Eveline often had to sneak down to the kitchen when the beastly cook was out of sight to find treats to tempt her appetite. Harriet wouldn’t do that, unless she was given a reason – she would probably be impatient and rough, and Charlotte would eat nothing.