A Mother's Trust (19 page)

‘You’re so wise,’ Rose said happily. ‘I wish I were more like you.’

‘No you don’t. You’re perfect just as you are.’ Phoebe looked round as two stage hands appeared from the door which led to the dressing rooms and began taking down the striped tent that served as a fortune-telling booth.

‘Marcus told them to do it,’ Rose said sympathetically. ‘I’m sorry.’

Phoebe shrugged her shoulders. ‘It makes sense, I suppose. I’ll just have to do as Caspar says for a while. It’s going to be hard, but at least it takes care of Ma and the baby. They’re the most important thing just now.’

It was harder than Phoebe had thought possible. Caspar was a perfectionist and a brutal taskmaster.
They
rehearsed the act late into the night, taking the stage when the performance ended and carrying on into the small hours of the morning until Phoebe was so exhausted that she could barely stand. They began again early next morning and continued throughout the weekend and into Monday, which was to be their opening night. Marcus had been so confident of their success that he had been moved to give complimentary tickets to everyone in the lodging house, and they were ensconced in a private box. Annie insisted on accompanying them, although she had been unwell for several days, but she said that nothing would keep her from seeing her daughter triumph on the professional stage. Phoebe was less certain and she was extremely nervous. Never one to seek the limelight, she had to pluck up every ounce of courage in order to go out on the stage in her scanty costume which the dressmaker had run up, working day and night to sew on hundreds of spangles and sequins.

Caspar was ice cool and imperturbable. He commanded the audience with the confidence of a great general addressing his troops. It was impossible to remain unimpressed by his magnificent stage presence and Phoebe fell under his spell as did every other person in the auditorium. She moved seamlessly from one magic trick to another and when it came to the part she dreaded most, which involved levitating her whole body from a table beneath the cover of a velvet cloth, she almost fainted with fright. ‘I can’t do it, Caspar,’ she whispered. ‘It won’t work.’

He looked deeply into her eyes. ‘Yes, it will. Don’t
be
afraid, Phoebe.’ He held out his arms. ‘Allow yourself to fall. You will float, you will fly. Trust me.’

The hiss of the gas and the heat of the limelight made her dizzy. She collapsed into his arms and he lifted her onto the table, which had been constructed especially for the act. His voice was soft and melodic; the words made little sense but she closed her eyes and gave herself up to his will. She was lighter than air. She was rising like a feather in the wind. She could hear the waves beating on the shore, or was it the thunderous sound of applause?

‘Get up, Phoebe.’

She opened her eyes and saw Caspar holding out his hand. His smile said it all. The audience rose to their feet stamping, clapping, whistling and calling for more.

‘We’ve done it, my love,’ Caspar whispered in her ear. ‘You’re mine now, Phoebe. You belong to me.’

She was too dazed to respond. Perhaps she had dreamt the whole thing, but the reaction of the theatre crowd was real enough and they took five curtain calls before they were finally allowed off stage.

In the wings Annie was waiting to hug her daughter with tears running down her cheeks. ‘You were wonderful, ducks. I’m so proud of you.’ She drew back, gazing at Phoebe’s skin-tight costume with a short skirt that revealed her shapely legs clad in pink silk tights. ‘But Nonna would have a fit if she saw you looking like that, and as for your grandfather …’ Annie leaned closer to whisper in Phoebe’s ear. ‘He would shoot Caspar with his fowling piece.’ She tapped the side of
her
nose and smiled. ‘But what the eye doesn’t see, the heart doesn’t grieve, my dear girl. I am really happy for you.’

Almost overnight, Phoebe found herself something of a celebrity. Dolly could not stop prattling about her amazing performance and she told anyone who would listen that her best friend could rise up in the air like a dandelion clock on the breeze. Phoebe tried to explain that it was just an illusion but Dolly looked at her with awe and was convinced that it was true magic.

Caspar was pleased, although he said very little and insisted that they work even harder to perfect the act and bring in new ideas. Marcus had booked them both for two more weeks and Caspar was eager to take the act to London, but this was not what Phoebe wanted. February would be over by the time they finished their contract with Marcus, and Annie was getting close to her time. Despite the thrill of seeing her daughter make a success of her unexpected new career, Annie’s health was giving cause for concern. Her hands and feet were swollen and she was barely able to drag her heavy body up the stairs to bed at night. Judy was concerned enough to send for the doctor, who simply advised Annie to rest.

‘I could have told her that and saved myself a florin,’ Judy said crossly next morning at breakfast. ‘You will need to help look after your mother, Phoebe. I’ve still got this house to run and I’m not a midwife. I know nothing about delivering babies and to tell the truth I can’t stand the nasty smelly little things that cry all the time.’

‘I’ll do everything I can,’ Phoebe promised. ‘And I’ll make Ma stay in bed. Dolly won’t mind taking her food up to her, I’m sure.’

‘No. I’ll look after Annie,’ Dolly said solemnly. ‘She’s been kind to me and I love her. I love you too, Phoebe, and Miss Judy too. I love all of you. You’re my family.’

Judy cleared her throat noisily. ‘Stuff and nonsense, girl. Get on with you and take a cup of tea and some toast upstairs to Annie.’ She rose from the table. ‘I suppose you’re off to the theatre soon, Phoebe?’

‘Yes, I’m afraid so. Caspar has an idea for a new act.’

‘Humph,’ Judy said with an expressive wave of her hands. ‘You’re his slave, Phoebe. Be very careful. I don’t trust that man.’

‘Oh, he’s not so bad when you get to know him,’ Phoebe said, rising from the table and slipping on the new mantle that Caspar had insisted on buying for her. The bonnet had been an afterthought but with an emerald-green ostrich feather and satin bows it exactly matched the colour of the mantle and had been too pretty to resist.

‘You shouldn’t accept presents from him,’ Judy said, frowning. ‘He’ll get the wrong idea and think you’re a loose woman.’

‘Nonsense. He knows I’m not like that.’ Phoebe fastened the tiny fabric-covered buttons before putting on the bonnet. It was the first pretty thing she had ever had that had not been second hand or come from a stall in Petticoat Lane or Rosemary market. Caspar had an eye for fashion and perfect taste. It was part of the
act
that his assistant should look good at all times, he had said when he paid the bill.

‘Well, beware. That’s all I can say.’ Judy pursed her lips. ‘If Madame Galina were here she’d say the same thing. Only she’s still fast asleep and Augusta has gone to work, otherwise they’d back me up. I’m telling you, Phoebe. No good will come out of this business if you let him get too close. He’ll think he owns you. I’ve seen it all before.’

Phoebe opened her mouth to argue but decided against it. She must not be late. Caspar hated unpunctuality. She picked up the new reticule that just happened to have been on sale in Gussie’s shop when they had purchased the bonnet. She was about to leave the room when Dolly burst through the door, red in the face and hysterical. ‘Come quick. It’s Annie. There’s something really wrong with her.’

Phoebe stood by her mother’s graveside barely able to believe that she would never see her again. The baby stirred in her arms as a fluttering of snow fell from a featherbed sky. She covered her brother’s tiny red face with the lacy shawl that Gussie had crocheted for him. Everyone from the theatre had made time to attend the funeral, except for Caspar who had gone to London to see the producer of a show at the Grecian theatre in Shoreditch, where he hoped to secure a future booking. If he had been sympathetic to Phoebe’s loss he hid it well, greeting Annie’s early demise with his customary cynicism. His casual remark that Phoebe might be able to contact her mother on the other side
and
prove once and for all whether or not such things were possible had upset her, but she had expected little else from a man with no heart. In complete contrast, Marcus had been kindness itself. He had even paid for the oak coffin with brass handles that would have been far too expensive for Phoebe or Judy to even consider. He stood beside them now, his large presence comforting and reassuring in a world which for Phoebe had been turned upside down and inside out.

‘Come, Phoebe,’ he said gently. ‘Let’s get you and the infant inside the church. There’s nothing more to be done here.’

She gazed up at him blankly. For a moment she had forgotten that the vicar had agreed to baptise the baby immediately after the interment. Suddenly her feet seemed too heavy to lift and she was frozen to the spot. She looked to Judy for help.

Clad from head to foot in black like a skinny crow, Judy moved swiftly to her side, taking the baby from her arms. ‘Marcus is right. It’s over now, Phoebe. She’s at peace and no one can harm her ever again. We have to think of the living now.’

Marcus nodded in agreement. ‘We must look after the little one.’ He pulled a face as the baby opened his mouth and began to mewl like a kitten. ‘Let’s get him somewhere warmer.’

Without waiting for Phoebe to respond, Judy marched off towards the church. The rest of the mourners followed slowly, their heads bent against the east wind that tore at their veils and bonnet ribbons and sent Fred’s bowler hat skimming across the
graveyard
. He raced after it, putting Phoebe in mind of a monkey puppet with his arms and legs flying out in all directions. If she had not been so sad she might have laughed.

The interior of the church was little warmer than outside but at least they were sheltered from the gathering force of the snowstorm. Dolly slipped her hand into Phoebe’s, gulping back the sobs that shook her whole body. Madame Galina and Gussie stood side by side, united for once in their sympathy for the bereaved. Next to them was Herbert, clasping his top hat in one hand and holding on to Rose with the other as if afraid to let her go. She smiled up at him and squeezed his arm gently, but Phoebe noticed that her eyes, like Dolly’s, were red-rimmed as if she had spent the night crying. Strangely, Phoebe thought, she had not been able to alleviate the pain of grief that lodged like an icicle in her heart by the shedding of warm tears. Nor had she been able to vent the anger she felt at the loss of her mother’s life, which had ebbed away on a crimson tide. Annie had slipped from life silently, peacefully and without protest, whispering so softly that Phoebe had to put her ear close to her mother’s lips. ‘Name him Edward. Take care of him for me, Phoebe.’

Judy placed the squalling infant back into Phoebe’s arms. ‘I have no talent for babies,’ she murmured. ‘He’s your responsibility now.’

Although she had acknowledged this fact to herself in the long watches of the night, now in cold daylight Phoebe gazed at her brother’s face and the full impact
of
Judy’s words stunned her into silence. She was holding a baby that was of her blood but not her own, and he would be dependent on her for many years to come. It was a terrifying prospect.

The vicar began the ceremony, taking the baby from Phoebe as he performed the baptism. The small scrap of humanity held in the vicar’s arms was now purple in the face with indignation as the cold holy water trickled down his forehead. His pink mouth was open wide like a baby bird soliciting food from its parents and his protests echoed round the vaulted ceiling of the church.

Madame Galina touched Phoebe’s arm. ‘He’s crying the devil out, my dear. It’s a good sign.’ She stepped aside as the vicar handed the crying baby back to Phoebe and the ceremony came to a rather abrupt end.

‘He’s ready for a feed,’ Gussie murmured as they walked down the aisle to congregate in the porch. ‘I can’t stand all that wailing. He’s giving me a headache. Where’s that wretched wet nurse?’

Judy sent her a scornful look. ‘You’d hardly expect to find her here, now would you? I told her to wait at the house. We’d best get the young man home as soon as possible, Phoebe.’

‘My carriage is outside,’ Marcus said, having thanked the vicar and given what appeared to be a substantial donation to the collection. ‘I can take you, Judy, as well as Phoebe and the baby, and young Dolly too as she’s just a little one, but I’m afraid there won’t be room for anyone else.’

Fred stepped forward. ‘I’ll go and find a cab to take the ladies back to the house.’

‘I have to go back to the shop,’ Gussie said sulkily. ‘Mrs Hopkins was reluctant to give me time off as it is.’

‘And I’m doing a midday shift at the pub.’ Madame Galina wrapped her cloak around her ample frame.

‘I’ll take you two ladies then,’ Herbert said eagerly. ‘Rose can go with Fred. I’ll follow on when I’ve seen Madame safely to her place of employment.’

‘You will come straight home then, won’t you, Poppa?’ Rose clutched his arm, her eyes filled with concern. ‘We have to be at the theatre this afternoon.’

Herbert flicked her hand away as if it were an annoying insect. ‘I’m well aware of my responsibilities, thank you, Rose. I’ll be at the theatre at two o’clock, as usual.’

‘I’ll expect you to be sober,’ Marcus said in a low voice. ‘I’ve had to warn you about your drinking on more than one occasion, Herbert. If you let me down again I’m afraid I’ll have to let you go.’

Phoebe stood, rocking the baby gently until his cries subsided and he slept. She gazed down at his wrinkled face, thinking that he looked more like an old man than a newborn baby. The moment of panic that she had experienced in the church had faded into nothingness. All she knew was that she loved him unreservedly and the poor little fellow had neither a mother nor a father. Even if she told him the truth, she doubted whether Ned Paxman would welcome parenthood. She looked out into the swirling mass of snow falling like
feathers
from a burst pillow, realising that this was the beginning of a long journey. She was solely responsible for the baby. She would have to look after him until he was able to take care of himself, and most difficult of all, she would have to keep the secret of his parentage from her family and the Paxmans. Just how she was going to accomplish this was, at the moment, quite beyond her comprehension. At least Gino knew and he would help her, of that she was certain. She must settle down and write to him and to her grandparents, breaking the news of Annie’s death, but without revealing the fact that she had died in childbirth. It was not going to be easy.