The Cockney Angel (36 page)

Dora rose to her feet in an obvious state of agitation. ‘No – that would be impossible!’

Chapter Eighteen

‘I NEVER WANTED
to fall out with her so completely. I really thought that she would come round when she grew accustomed to the idea of my marriage to Eddie, but she is a stubborn woman.’

‘But it all happened so long ago and you have a son – don’t you want him to know his aunt?’

‘The rift between us is too great to be breached.’ Dora moved to the range and busied herself making a pot of tea. She left it to brew while she fetched blue and white willow-pattern cups and saucers from the dresser. ‘Maude is my senior by ten years. I would have been the youngest of five had not two of our brothers died in infancy, which left Maude, Cuthbert and myself. I was little more than a child when Eddie was courting my sister, and I liked him well enough then, but that was all. I do remember how upset she was when our father forbade the match, but it was many years later when I met Eddie again. I was almost thirty-nine and had long given up hope
of
marriage and children, and he was a widower with two children. I snatched my last chance of happiness, but Maude cannot forgive me.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Irene murmured helplessly. ‘That is so sad.’

‘The tragedy is that she cannot put the past behind her,’ Dora said, pouring the tea. ‘Do you take milk and sugar?’

‘Milk and one sugar, if you please. Do go on, if you feel you can. Alice has told me a little about you, but not very much.’

‘How do you know Alice?’ Dora’s hand shook as she handed the cup and saucer to Irene.

‘It’s a long story, but I must confess that my friendship with Alice and her brother is one of the reasons why I came here today. When Miss Maude mentioned that she had once been in love with a farmer whose name was Edward Kent I was curious to discover if he was Alice’s father, or if it was just a coincidence.’

Dora sank down on a chair at the table. ‘I think it was difficult for my stepson to accept another woman in his mother’s place. He did not feel that I was a fit person to care for Alice, whom he adored.’ She picked up a spoon and stirred her tea, as if concentrating on the repetitive movement helped her to put her thoughts into words. ‘I know that I was not the best
stepmother
in the world, but I did try to make them like me.’

Irene tried to imagine herself in Edward’s place, and she experienced a sudden overwhelming sympathy for him in his predicament. How would she have felt if Ma had died and Pa had brought another woman into their home? ‘It could not have been easy for any of you,’ she said, thinking out loud.

‘No, indeed. But if I had not accepted Eddie’s proposal I would more than likely have died a spinster. Maude and I had very little in common; the difference in our ages and temperaments was too great, but I wish we could have remained friends.’

‘Couldn’t you tell her that yourself?’

‘I tried in the beginning, but she was obstinate and I was desperate to make a success of the marriage that had come to me so late in life.’

‘You have a fine son,’ Irene said gently. ‘I saw him in the dairy.’

Dora nodded and smiled. ‘Yes, I have a son. Very soon after our marriage, and to my great surprise, I found that I was in the family way. I had thought that I was too old to bear children and you can guess my joy when I discovered that I was to have a child of my own to love and care for. I had a difficult confinement, and for a while the doctors
thought
that both Arnold and I would die, but somehow we survived. I confess that I gave all my attention to my boy, and in my anxiety to nurture him I’m afraid I neglected Alice. I am not proud of that fact.’

Irene was at a loss as to what to say in the face of such an admission. ‘I’m sure you did your best,’ she murmured.

‘I tried, but I haven’t the strength of character that my sister possesses, and I’m ashamed to say that it was a relief when my husband’s son decided to take Alice to London. Perhaps I should have prevented it, but I thought that she would be much happier with young Edward.’

‘She adores him,’ Irene said simply. ‘And he is very good to her.’

‘I’m glad. Edward is a fine young man but he was not cut out to be a farmer, any more than my son is. Arnold helps his father on the farm, but I’m afraid he has no liking for the life. My husband insists that he must learn to work the land and take over from him when the time comes.’

‘And how do you feel about that?’

‘I want anything that will make my son happy.’ Dora wiped her eyes on her sleeve and sniffed. ‘But I am afraid he will never settle for rural life. He’s never met my brother Cuthbert, but one day I must tell Arnold that
he
has relatives in London. I have a feeling that as soon as he is old enough to leave home he will want to go to London to seek his fortune, and then he will have need of Cuthbert’s protection and guidance.’

Irene pitied any young fellow who had to rely on Arthur’s parents for guidance, but she kept her thoughts to herself on that score. ‘It might comfort you to know that your nephew, Arthur, has come to live in Havering with Miss Maude. He hated being an apprentice silversmith and got himself into all sorts of scrapes in town. He is now learning the blacksmith’s trade and plans to marry his employer’s daughter, so you see the wheel has come full circle.’

A reluctant smile lit Dora’s eyes. ‘I have not seen Arthur since he was in petticoats and I think it highly unlikely that anyone told him about Arnold. I would like to meet Arthur again, but I fear that Maude would object.’

‘Perhaps,’ Irene replied thoughtfully. ‘But surely it would be worth trying to heal the rift between you?’

‘I don’t know about that. I think matters have gone too far.’ Dora broke off with a guilty start as the door opened and Farmer Kent strode into the kitchen.

‘So you’re still here,’ he said, scowling at Irene. ‘Do you think you could walk on that ankle?’

Dora rose to her feet and fetched another cup. She filled it with tea, adding liberal quantities of milk and sugar, and she passed it to her husband. ‘She cannot walk home with a sprained ankle, my dear,’ she said mildly. ‘Why not allow Arnold to drive her home in the trap?’

‘He could, but it’s very inconvenient.’ He finished his tea in two large gulps. ‘All right, you may call the boy and tell him to make the trap ready, but I want him back here as soon as possible. I need his help ditching this afternoon.’

‘Would you like him to collect the ploughshare from the smithy, Eddie?’ Dora asked innocently. ‘It would save you a trip to the village.’

He hesitated, as if the decision was a momentous one, and then he nodded his head. ‘I suppose the boy could be trusted to carry out such a simple task unaided. Very well, but tell him not to use it as an excuse to loiter.’ He shoved the empty cup into her hands and left the kitchen without a backward glance.

As the door closed on him, Dora turned to Irene with a conspiratorial smile. ‘I want Arnold to meet his cousin. Even if Maude wants nothing to do with us, there is no reason for my boy to be kept apart from his own flesh and blood.’

‘I agree with you. And perhaps Miss Maude is not quite as unfeeling as you seem to think.’

‘Why do you say that?’

Irene was touched by the eager look on Dora’s face and she gave her an encouraging smile. ‘I believe that the bedchamber where I sleep might have once been yours. I was allowed to use it on my previous visit to Havering and it struck me then that it was like no other room in the house. I don’t think that a thing has been changed in it since you left home all those years ago, but it has been kept clean and aired as if in readiness for your return.’

‘Is it a room overlooking the garden?’ Dora asked with a tremor in her voice. ‘Are the curtains and coverlet patterned with roses, and does the afternoon sunshine flood the room with light?’

‘Yes,’ Irene said, smiling. ‘It is exactly like that.’

Dora’s eyes misted and her lips trembled. ‘Thank you for telling me, Irene. Perhaps, deep down, Maude has forgiven me after all. You don’t know how happy that makes me.’

An hour later, after an uneventful ride in the somewhat rickety trap behind an aged carthorse with no apparent ambition to go faster than a snail, they arrived at the village
smithy
. Irene had suggested that Arnold, a boy of few words, might like to go there first. Dora had already told him that he was to meet his cousin from London, but Arnold had not appeared to be particularly interested. Irene could only hope that Arthur might be a little more enthusiastic when she introduced him to his young relative. Perhaps under Artie’s influence, the rather surly and taciturn Arnold might turn out to be a totally different boy. It was worth a try.

‘Here we are, Arnold,’ Irene said cheerfully as they approached the smithy.

‘I’ve been here before,’ Arnold muttered, shooting her a pitying look, as if to imply that all women were scatterbrained creatures who must be tolerated but otherwise ignored. ‘You are the stranger round here, not me.’

Arthur emerged from the forge and was heading towards them. ‘And that is your cousin Arthur,’ Irene said, ignoring his rudeness.

‘This is a surprise, Renie,’ Arthur said, casting a curious glance at her companion. ‘I didn’t know you had a gentleman friend in the neighbourhood.’ He winked at Arnold, who turned his head away with a disdainful sniff.

‘I won’t get down, Artie. I’ve hurt my ankle and Arnold is going to drive me home when
he
has done an errand for his father, Farmer Kent.’ She gave Arthur a meaningful glance, jerking her head in Arnold’s direction.

‘Farmer Kent’s son?’ Arthur stared at her with a puzzled frown. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘Artie, I want you to meet your cousin, Arnold Kent.’

‘My cousin?’ Arthur looked at Arnold and then back to Irene. ‘I still don’t understand.’

‘I never asked to meet you. It was Ma’s idea and my dad says that all women are simpleminded.’ Arnold shot a scornful look at Irene. ‘If you ask me, this one ain’t no better than the rest.’

‘Here, boy, don’t talk to Miss Irene like that,’ Arthur said angrily. ‘Show some respect.’ He drew Irene aside, lowering his voice. ‘Is this true, Renie?’

‘Yes, and it explains a lot. It was Dora, Miss Maude’s sister who married her old sweetheart.’

‘Damn me!’ Arthur said, staring at Arnold in amazement. ‘No wonder the old girl was upset. Are you certain?’

‘I met Dora at the farm. There’s no doubt that she is Miss Maude’s sister.’

‘Stop whispering.’ Arnold stood up in the well of the cart. ‘What are you saying? I want to know.’

‘It’s up to you to sort this out, Artie,’ Irene said gently. ‘I’ve done my bit.’

A shadow of doubt crossed Arthur’s face, but he stepped up to the cart and held out his hand. ‘How do, old chap? I’m pleased to meet you.’

‘I have to collect a mended ploughshare,’ Arthur said stiffly, ignoring Arthur’s outstretched hand. ‘We deal with Bligh, not his apprentice.’

Arthur’s smile faded. ‘Do you now? Well, young man, I’m sorry but the gaffer is busy at present, and I think I can be trusted to find the article in question. Would you like to hop down and give me a hand?’

‘No, I would not. Just do as I ask and be quick about it, my man.’

With a swift movement, Arthur hoisted his surly cousin from the driver’s seat by the scruff of his neck and the seat of his breeches. ‘Blood relative or not, you don’t speak to anyone in that tone of voice, young ’un.’

Irene smothered a giggle at the sight of Arnold’s red face and flailing limbs as Arthur dangled him above the ground. ‘Don’t be too hard on him, Artie. He’s just a boy.’

‘And a rude one at that,’ Arthur retorted, releasing Arnold so that he landed on his hands and knees in the mud. ‘Get up and help me find the ploughshare. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to take the wrong ’un home to your pa.’

Arnold scrambled to his feet, brushing the
mud
off his knees. ‘You did that on purpose, you big bully.’

‘I did it to teach you to mind your manners, cousin,’ Arthur said amicably. He held out his hand. ‘You and I should be friends and not foes. Come, shake on it.’

Arnold backed away. ‘How do I know that we really are cousins? You could just be saying that to make a fool of me.’

‘It’s time someone told you a few home truths, young man. Come with me and I’ll tell you a bit about your mother’s family. Then you can decide whether or not you want to get to know the Greenwoods.’ Arthur strolled away from the cart and disappeared into the fiery interior of the smithy.

Arnold hesitated and he glanced nervously at Irene. She smiled and nodded. ‘Go on. You’ll like Artie when you get to know him, and you might find you have more in common with him than you imagine.’

For a moment she thought that he was going to refuse, but then he seemed to think better of it and he trotted after Arthur like an obedient puppy. Irene sighed. Her ankle was throbbing painfully and her head was beginning to ache. She was glad that she had been able to introduce Arthur to his cousin, and maybe in time the breach between Miss Maude and her sister would be healed, but all this only served to
remind
her that she was far from home and family. Meeting Edward’s father had unsettled her even further, but it had made her realise that she should stop looking for answers in the safety of the countryside. She must return to London where she truly belonged.

Rainclouds had gathered and the sky had darkened ominously. She called out to Arthur to hurry and was relieved to see him returning with Arnold helping him to carry the heavy ploughshare. They loaded it in the trap and Arnold leapt up beside her with the agility of a young monkey. He took the reins and released the handbrake.

‘Goodbye, young ’un,’ Arthur said, ruffling his hair.

‘Do you promise to come and see me at the farm?’ Arnold asked plaintively. ‘You won’t forget, will you?’

‘I will come on Sunday. I don’t hold with family feuds and I look forward to meeting your ma and pa.’

Arnold nodded his head and grinned. ‘Walk on,’ he said, clicking his tongue against his teeth.