For The Sake of Her Family (33 page)

‘But I heard him! I heard him, Alice – he’s out there in the wind and rain.’ Nancy stared at Alice, eyes wild and tearful as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom.

‘Shh now . . .’ Alice stroked Nancy’s long black hair and pulled the sheets up to her chin. ‘See? Nobody’s there.’

Nancy lay in the bed and closed her eyes. Alice could hear the baby moving and the familiar muffles that usually turned into tears. She prayed that Baby Alice would hold on another minute or two
before she started crying; she daren’t leave Nancy till she was certain that she had settled. Thankfully the little one obliged.

By the time she crept out of the room a few minutes later, the first splutters of a cry were erupting.

‘Now then, young lady, I’ve had quite enough of your mother tonight, without you starting as well.’ She hugged the baby to her, the warmth of her body and the security of being
held quietening the little mite. It wasn’t long before Baby Alice was fast asleep, and Alice herself began to drift in and out of sleep, trying hard to stay awake but finally succumbing to
exhaustion.

She didn’t know how long she’d slept when she was jolted awake by a loud bang. Was that the back door slamming? She quietly withdrew her arm from around the baby and went to the top
of the stairs. The kitchen appeared to be empty and everything was quiet. Then she crept along the landing and peered into Nancy’s bedroom only to find the bed empty and Nancy gone.

Out into the wild, dark night Nancy ran, her sodden nightdress clinging to her skin, the voices urging her on. Through howling wind and driving rain she ran and ran . . .

Alice tore down the stairs, stumbling and banging her head hard against the banister in her haste. Lightheaded and with blood trickling down her face, she pulled herself upright and continued to
the door. Supporting herself against the doorframe, she stood yelling into the night: ‘Nancy, Nancy, Nancy . . .’ She kept on yelling until her voice was too hoarse to continue. Blood
from her head wound was dripping down the back of her neck, and her body and face were drenched from the rain and battered by the wind. Upstairs she could hear Baby Alice crying. Reluctantly she
closed the door, giving up on Nancy returning. Hopefully she’d have taken sanctuary in one of the old workmen’s huts, but only daylight would reveal that. The baby was yelling loudly
now, demanding attention. Alice hauled herself up the stairs and looked at the little one’s angry face. As she leaned over the cot, she realized that she was dripping water on the baby. She
pulled off her soaking nightdress and put a clean one on before picking the screaming bundle up.

‘Hush, little one. Quiet now. Your mam’s gone to look for your pa, but you’ve still got me. You’ll always have me.’

When morning came, the skies had cleared and the wind had dropped. Her head aching, her eyes red and sore from the tears she had wept over all she had lost, Alice went to the
kitchen window and looked out. Storm debris lay scattered on the ground, and the sound of the river in full flood filled the air. The sun was rising over Whernside, its weak rays caressing the
reddish-brown tops of the fells.

After feeding the baby, Alice had spent the rest of the night in the kitchen, sitting by the dying embers of the fire and anxiously watching the back door, hoping that Nancy would return. She
thought of Gerald and Will, both lost to the war, and the promise she had made Gerald: that no matter what happened, she would look after Nancy. She cursed herself for not looking after her, and
not stopping her from going out into the night.

Wearily she climbed the stairs and tiptoed to the cot. Baby Alice was breathing heavily, fast asleep. Alice got dressed and put her boots on, then set off in the direction of the viaduct. From
up there she would have a view over the marble works, maybe see where Nancy was. Leaving the back door open so she would be able to hear if Baby Alice awoke, she ventured up the hillside. The
cobbled path was awash with small tributaries flowing downhill into the swollen River Dee, and the stream that powered the polishing machine for the marble works had turned into a full-blown river.
As she climbed, Alice called Nancy’s name over and over, and when she came to the remains of the marble works, she searched the remaining workmen’s shed, in the hope of finding her
there. Not a sign.

She carried on up the slope until she reached the arch of the viaduct. From there she could see right to the far end of the dale. Somewhere out there was her sister-in-law; she only hoped she
was safe and not, as she had feared in the middle of the night, lying dead and alone. The chill December air was crisp and pure, and the smell of fresh water cleared her heavy head. Alice gazed
around her: even the sheep had gone, deserting the fell for lower ground where they might find shelter from the pounding rain that had fallen for the last few days. It was time to head home; Baby
Alice would be waking soon, and her needs must come first. She picked her way down the rough cobbled road, her skirts getting wet and dirty. As she reached the final few yards, she saw a figure
emerging from the kitchen doorway.

‘Jack! I’m here, Jack, I’m here!’ Alice yelled to him, desperate to stop him before he disappeared.

‘By God, I thought you’d done a runner on me, but then I heard the baby making a noise upstairs.’ He began to walk up the slope towards her. ‘I was just checking the
sides of the river – I’ve lost some sheep; silly bloody things crept down here to get away from the storm and ended up drowning – and since I was almost at your bridge, I thought
I’d pop my head in to see that you’re all OK after last night’s storm.’

Hearing Jack rambling on about lost sheep, Alice covered her head in her hands and began sobbing uncontrollably.

‘What’s up, lass? Whatever’s wrong?’ Jack ran to her and put his arm around her. Only then did he see the cut on her forehead. ‘Are you all right? Did you bang your
head? What happened?’

Alice buried her head in the familiar smell of his tweed jacket, sobbing and pouring her heart out, telling him of the past night’s events, of Gerald going missing and of Nancy running out
into the night.

‘Are you sure you feel all right after that bump on the head? In that case, go put the kettle on and make a brew. Get that young ’un upstairs fed and this house warmed up. I’ll
organize a search party – she can’t have gone far. And stop fretting. You couldn’t have stopped her: she’s been off her head for months now. The news of Gerald must have
been the last straw.’ Jack gave Alice one last comforting hug as she sniffed and filled the kettle with brown floodwater from the tap, ready to boil for tea. ‘As soon as I’ve got
any news, I’ll come back and tell you.’

Though he managed a smile for Alice, in his heart he feared the worst. Nobody could survive out in the open on a night like this. He only hoped that Nancy had found shelter.

It was nearly dusk by the time a weary and downhearted Jack entered the kitchen at Stone House. He didn’t want to break the news; he felt sick with the day’s
findings.

‘Well, did you find her? Has anyone seen her? Please, Jack, tell me. I’ve been going out of my head with worry all day. I’ve felt so helpless, stuck in the cottage with the
baby, not able to do anything.’ Alice tugged at his jacket as he steered her to the chair next to the fire and sat her down.

‘Aye, we found her. I’m sorry, Alice, I don’t know how to tell you . . .’ He bent over and gazed into the fire, rubbing his head with his hand. ‘There’s no
easy way to say this: we found her drowned, in the river at Cow Dubb. She was washed up, tangled in some tree roots. She must have fallen in last night. She wouldn’t have stood a chance: the
river’s still in flood today and it was a torrent last night.’

‘No, she can’t be! She just can’t be! That’s everyone gone. There’s nobody left.’ Alice crumpled in a heap on the pegged rug in front of the fire and wept.
‘I’m so fed up of fighting, of being strong. Now I’ve no one.’

‘You’ve still got me, lass. I’ll always be yours, you know I will. I’m not sure what to do for you, but I promise you I’ll always be there.’ Jack sighed,
looking at her distraught face. ‘To make matters worse, they’ve found young Tommy Goad, the telegram boy, just below Bath Bridge. He must have tried to take a shortcut home down the
back lane and been swept off his bike. His mother will be heartbroken too. It’s a right do. I’ve never known anything like it.’ Jack put his arm around Alice as she rested her
head on his knee, sobbing and wishing that she had persuaded the young lad to stay, regardless of what his mother thought of Nancy.

‘Where have you taken Nancy’s body?’ Alice wiped her eyes and raised her head. ‘Did you not think to bring her back here?’

‘Nay, lass, you wouldn’t want to see her, the state she was in. We took her to old Mr Batty’s. He’ll see to her. No doubt he’ll be coming to see you once the river
subsides a bit. Old devil will be rubbing his hands, thinking of the money he can make with this funeral. I shouldn’t say it, but you know what he’s like.’

‘Well, he needn’t bother. Nobody bothered with her when she was alive, so they’d only be hypocrites if they turned up for her funeral.’ Alice was angry that she would
once again have to do business with the Battys. She hated them, and even in her grief she was determined that they were not going to get the better of her.

‘Now, what are you going to do, lass? You’re in a funny position. I suppose if Gerald is missing, presumed dead, Baby Alice is the rightful heir to all his estates. Poor little mite,
good thing she’s too young to know of all these carryings-on.’

‘I don’t know . . . Gerald’s solicitor will have to be informed of Nancy’s death and Gerald being declared missing. We were going to move into the manor before Christmas,
and I think I will still take Baby Alice there. It’s where she belongs and, besides, I don’t want to stay here. There’s too many bad memories here for me.’ Alice rose up
from her knees. ‘We’ll manage – you have to; no matter what life throws at you, you’ve got to get on with it.’

Alice looked at the concentration on Ernie Batty’s face as he bent over his notepad writing down her wishes for Nancy’s funeral.

‘Satin inlay, did you say, Miss Bentham?’ He had his professional slimy voice on and he smiled at Alice, showing his black stumps of teeth to her.

‘Yes, we agreed on that – bright red, if we could, Mr Batty.’

‘Oh! But, Miss Bentham, I don’t know if that’s proper in a coffin. I’ve a lovely shade of oyster silk that would be more fitting.’ He rubbed his hands, thinking of
the price he could charge.

‘Red was her favourite colour and it showed her hair off so nicely. I want red, Mr Batty.’ Alice returned his sickly smile, gazing innocently at him, while what she really wanted was
to scream.

‘Right, red it is. Horses, Miss Bentham – do you need a horse-drawn hearse? Nothing looks finer than horses with plumes . . .’ His hand made waves in the air, conjuring the
forms of fine horses.

‘Mr Batty, she’s lying in your mortuary not twenty yards from the church. Do you honestly think I need horses and a hearse? Four bearers will be sufficient, thank you.’

‘And finally, how many are you expecting for the funeral tea, and where would you like it arranging? Should we say tea for a hundred to a hundred and fifty?’

‘Mr Batty, I don’t know where you are getting those numbers from, but there will be four of us there. And what tea we will be needing will be ready and waiting for us at the
manor.’

‘I thought that you’d wish for her to have a funeral that befits her brother’s title; that’s why I came up the dale to sort it.’ His smarmy act was starting to fail
as he realized that there was not going to be a lot of profit to be had.

‘Aside from her brother and husband – one of whom lies dead in France, the other missing and presumed dead – Nancy Frankland was loved by two good friends and two faithful
servants. Those four were the only ones who really knew her, so those are the ones whom she would want at her funeral, no one else. We wouldn’t want to be seen as hypocrites now, would
we?’

‘Certainly not, Miss Bentham. I’ll see to it – her funeral will be small but professional.’ He rose from his seat and put his tall black hat on. ‘Thank you for your
time. Your wishes will be carried out.’ He grimaced a smile as he reached for the door.

‘Just one more thing, Mr Batty – please send your bill to Bramble & Partners Solicitors. Their office is on Stramongate in Kendal. They will settle with you once they have dealt
with Miss Frankland’s estate. I’m afraid you might have a wait, as they are busy with a lot of estates given the times we are living in.’ Alice couldn’t be certain, but she
was sure he swore as he closed the door behind him, mumbling under his breath.

She leaned against the door and surveyed the empty kitchen, remembering how Ernie Batty had asked for money up front from her heartbroken father after the death of her mother. She could still
see her father throwing the few pence that they had onto the table for the money-grabbing couple to put into their pockets. Well, at least she had given Nancy the coffin she deserved and not the
flimsy board one that her mother had been buried in.

She moved away from the door: time to pack. She was looking forward to moving into the manor with Baby Alice. The prospect was a ray of sunshine in the gloom. If she never saw Stone House again
it would be too soon; there had been nothing but heartache since the day she’d moved in.

‘Oh, Alice, it’s so good to see you and the baby! At last you’re back where you both belong. I just wish Miss Nancy was with you. We’ll miss her so
much.’ Mrs Dowbiggin dabbed her tear-filled eyes. ‘It’s such a terrible, terrible time. Have you any news of Master Gerald? Is he still missing?’

Alice and the baby couldn’t get into the manor for the endless questions that were being thrown at her as she climbed the front steps.

She gave Mrs Dowbiggin a kiss on the cheek and then passed the sleeping baby to her before taking off her black hat and hanging it up on the hall stand.

‘We’ve not heard a thing, Mrs Dowbiggin; I only wish we had. It’s the not knowing that’s the hardest part.’