Paper Doll (31 page)

‘Yes, Mrs Miller, you’re a gracious and generous woman, and you make me feel ashamed of myself.’

Julia doubted it.

When she broke the news of her plans to the staff. Fiona was overjoyed to be offered the position of matron. ‘To be honest, I thought you’d dispense with my services, Mrs Miller.’

‘You astonish me, Fiona. Your competence for the position is beyond criticism, and to be quite honest, I never even considered asking anyone else, because I know you’re an honest, straightforward person who possesses a great deal of common sense,’ and she grinned as she added, ‘Even if we didn’t always see eye to eye.’

‘Like the time you sneaked in and took Ben from his cot for a feed, and I let you get away with it.’

‘Only because you knew you wouldn’t be able to stop me. I’ll be hiring an architect to advise us on how and where to convert the bedrooms. Fiona, if you like you can plan how many beds, sheets and things we’ll need.’

‘I’m sure the church committee will keep us supplied with knitted baby blankets, baby clothes, socks and matinee jackets,’ Agnes Finnigan said happily. ‘It will be a good cause for them. And we’ll have to have a patron . . . that will be you, Mrs Miller.’

With such a lot to do Julia didn’t have time to blink. She fell into bed every night and slept deeply, waking refreshed. Looking after Ben was a delight, though Fiona hovered over her like a bird waiting to pounce on a worm.

One night there was the sound of a car, and the dogs set up a frenzy of barking. Julia gazed at the clock. It was two a.m., and somebody was leaning on the doorbell.

She pushed the window open. ‘Who is it?’

‘It’s me, my angel . . . Irene. Come down and pay the cab, would you? I’ve run out of money.’

‘At this time of night?’

‘What has the time of night got to do with anything? Just do it, else I’ll sleep on your doorstep.’

Pulling on her dressing gown, Julia went down. The cab cost a small fortune, since Irene had come down from Southampton.

‘Here, take Lisette will you.’ A large-eyed child was placed in her arms. She had the look of Latham, and seemed lethargic as she gazed around her.

Robert came down. ‘I heard the dogs.’

‘It’s me, Robert. You can go back to bed.’

‘Mrs Argette . . . How are you?’

‘How do I look?’

‘If I may be frank . . . like hell.’

‘You needn’t have been that frank, but I must admit I do I feel like hell.’ She staggered a little and passed a hand over her brow.

Robert helped her into the sitting room. ‘Is there anything I can do?’

‘Take Lisette to Fiona and ask her to see to the child. She’ll need a bottle.’

‘They took my daughter away from me,’ Irene said after Robert had gone. ‘After Latham left I knew he was through with me. He was going home to you. Then I got a phone call from my father. He accused me of being responsible for leading Charles astray and causing his death. That’s how I learned that Latham was dead too . . . until the lawyer’s letter came. He advised me to give up the claim to the legacy. I wouldn’t of course, because Lisette was entitled to something. God knows . . . She was such a nuisance and nobody wanted her. Not my husband, not Latham . . . not even me.’

‘I went on a bender, and took some other stuff when the booze ran out. I clean forgot about poor Lisette, and she doesn’t cry much. She doesn’t do anything much . . . not even smile. But then, I wouldn’t smile if I had me for a mother, either.’

‘Hush, Irene, stop punishing yourself.’

In her usual manner Irene tried to make light of the situation. ‘I haven’t finished. I’m having a moment of dramatic desperation and it’s your duty to listen to me. The cleaning lady took her to the convent, and got me to the hospital. They pumped my stomach out.’ She shuddered and tried to make light of it. ‘An absolutely ghastly experience, darling,’ and she burst into tears. ‘I left the hospital and stole Lisette from the orphanage. I just walked into the garden and took her from out of her cot. I could have been anyone, and nobody tried to stop me.’

‘How did you get here?’

‘I thumbed a lift on a donkey and cart to some port where I managed to bribe the fishermen. They dropped me off in Southampton, but I must have lost my purse in the boat, because it was gone from my bag. I didn’t have much money on me, and I had nowhere else in the world to go. You won’t turn me away, will you?’

Julia put her arms around Irene. ‘Of course not, I’ll look after you.’

‘I’m so bloody tired. If anything happens to me, you will look after her, won’t you?’

‘Of course.’

‘Really look after her, I mean. I want you to legally adopt her as your own, and give her a good life. You’ll be a better mother to her than I could ever be.’

Irene’s wild talk was beginning to scare Julia. ‘Nothing will happen to you. We’ll look after you until you get better, then we’ll talk again.’

‘Only I won’t get well, I’ll only get worse. There’s something wrong with my liver. Cancer, the hospital said. I want you to adopt her while I’m still alive, so I won’t have to bother to come back and haunt you.’

Poor Irene.
‘What about your parents, won’t they—’

‘They refuse to acknowledge either of us. If my mother knew I was here she’d probably burn your house down with me in it. I can’t say I blame her where I’m concerned, but poor little Lisette has nobody. I was tempted to leave her in France, but couldn’t bear the thought of her becoming a French nun. I bet they wear ugly black knickers that come down to their ankles and smell of mothballs.’

Julia chuckled. She couldn’t help herself. Even in the face of her terminal illness, Irene’s wit could make her laugh. She didn’t feel sorry for herself, though she was emaciated to the point of being a bag of bones.

‘I’ll give you Latham’s room, which is next to mine.’

‘Ah, yes . . . I remember it well. How exceedingly civilized of you. And to think I once called you a frightful prig.’

‘I do believe I can be one at times. All Latham’s things have been cleared out of it. In the morning I’ll ask the doctor to call on you, and we’ll talk again.’

There was a knock at the door and Agnes came in with a tray. ‘I thought you might both like a mug of cocoa to help you get back to sleep.’

‘Thank you, Agnes, that’s kind of you. I’m sorry you were disturbed. Now you’re up, do you think you could make up the bed in the room next to mine? Mrs Argette can wear one of my nightdresses. She will be staying with us for a while.’

‘Yes, Mrs Miller.’

‘Not for long though,’ Irene thought to add.

Before she went upstairs, Julia went through to the flat. Lisette was settled down to sleep in Ben’s pram.

Fiona had an attitude of mild outrage hovering about her. ‘The child was filthy and she’s much too thin for a child of her age. I gave her a good wash, and she gulped down her bottle as if she hadn’t been given a good feed in days, the poor wee mite. I think she has lice in her hair, too, but I’ll tackle those tomorrow before Master Benjamin catches them. The child settled down easily enough. I’m surprised that woman had the cheek to come here, I really am? You shouldn’t have taken her in.’

‘Hush, Fiona, be charitable. Mrs Argette was a friend of both my husband and myself. She’s terminally ill, and came here because she had nowhere else to go. She’s desperately in need of my help. Would you deny her that?’

‘Under the circumstances, no.’

‘Then try and forget anything you’ve heard about her past. She has asked me to adopt Lisette, and I’m inclined to do so.’

‘Aye, well, that would be a kind thing for you to do . . . though she’s not a very pretty child. Not like Ben.’

Julia gazed down at the solemn-looking waif and tears filled her eyes. ‘She doesn’t have to be pretty, she just has to be herself, and be loved.’ Julia stooped and kissed the girl’s pale cheek and whispered, ‘I love you, my little Lisette, and I know Ben will. That will do for a start.’

‘Watch out for those lice, they can jump a long way,’ Fiona said gruffly.

‘Who fathered Ben?’ Irene said when Julia went upstairs to bed. ‘I know it wasn’t Latham.’

‘Mind your own business.’

‘You’re not going to let me die without satisfying my curiosity, are you?’

‘I suppose not, and she grinned. ‘Actually, it was someone you never met . . . Martin Lee-Trafford.’

‘That doctor your father hired to manage the factory? But I thought . . . and Latham told me . . .’ Irene began to laugh.

‘Shut up and go to sleep,’ Julia said, and closed the door between them.

A month later Irene died. Julia sent a note to her parents and arranged a funeral, as Irene had requested. There was to be no service, just a few words spoken around the grave site.

Irene’s headstone read,
Irene Argette, wife of Jacques and beloved mother of Lisette.

‘I’d hate to embarrass the other Curruthers in the district, either living or dead,’ Irene had remarked about her request that her maiden name be left off.

Julia and her household were the only mourners at the graveside, but beyond the churchyard wall was the Rolls Royce belonging to the Curruthers family.

It was early October. The nights were drawing in. The glorious autumn drift of sycamore and maple leaves was being mashed underfoot and the trees that had once shaded the earth were now uncovering large glimpses of sky. Irene’s grave would soon be covered in a thick layer of decaying foliage.

Julia went to clear the dead flowers away from Irene’s grave ten days later. She was going to plant daffodil bulbs to bloom in spring.

It was a fine, mild day and she took the children with her in the twin pram she’d bought. They were seated at either end, one dressed in pink, the other in blue. Lisette faced her. Good food had added a soft pink bloom to her cheeks.

Julia smiled at the girl.

For a moment the child stared back at her through Latham’s eyes, then her eyes lightened and she decided it was time she smiled.

Julia was transfixed by the event. ‘Fiona was wrong . . . You
are
beautiful . . . You’re the most beautiful girl in the world when you smile.’

‘Mam mam,’ Lisette whispered hesitantly.

‘That’s right, my love. I’m your mamma, and I love you.’ She brought the pram to a halt and kissed Lisette.

‘Me’swell,’ Ben said, and began to giggle when she blew a raspberry against his soft neck.

Ben loved having Lisette for company. ‘Yes, you wretch,’ and Martin came into her mind. Ben was growing more like him every day. Perhaps she should contact him, she thought, then hesitated. He hadn’t answered her last letter, and she now had two children. Perhaps she should just let sleeping dogs lie.

Engrossed in her thoughts she wheeled the pram past Irene’s grave and had to retrace her steps. No wonder she’d gone past, and she gazed down at it. A marble fender and a low wrought-iron fence had been erected, the space neatly filled in with gravel.

Her parents had tried to confine Irene’s natural exuberance in life, and hadn’t succeeded. She’d been a free spirit. Now they were doing it in death. At least it showed they cared a little, she supposed.

But it was neat – too neat a bed for Irene.

Taking out her trowel Julia stepped over the fence, carefully pushed the gravel aside and planted her bulbs. When she’d finished she smoothed the gravel back over it.

The daffodils would push their spears through the earth and their muted clamour would blaze their brazen beauty for Irene in the spring, and for every spring to follow.

T
urning the letter over in his hand Martin stared at the return address. ‘J.R. Singleton,’ he said to the cats. ‘Are either of you acquainted with him?’

Clarence gave him a superior look. Billy Boy meowed.

The telephone rang.

‘Dr Lee-Trafford’s surgery.’

A rather nervous voice said in a whisper, ‘I’m Jane Singleton.’

‘How odd . . . I’ve just received a letter from a J.R. Singleton posted from Edinburgh. Is that you?’

‘Yes it is. Have you read it?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Then I’d better ring you back in half an hour.’

‘I’ll be seeing patients then. Look . . . to save time perhaps you’d like to tell me what this is about, Mrs Singleton. If it’s the partnership you’re a little late. The position has been filled by a doctor who lives locally.’ And one who he knew was sound, since he’d gone through medical school with him.

‘It’s nothing to do with the partnership, Martin. I know that this might come as a shock, but I’m your mother.’

His mother!
The breath nearly left his body and he put his hand on the back of the chair to steady himself. ‘My mother?’

‘Can we talk?’

‘I only have ten minutes before surgery,’ which sounded somewhat curt and unwelcoming even to his own ears. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it how it sounded.’

‘I know how difficult this must be for you, as it is for me. I need to see you, Martin, to explain.’

‘There’s nothing to explain.’

‘Yes, there is.’

‘Where are you?’ he said.

‘In Edinburgh, but I’m going to London in April to visit my daughter and grandson.’

Her daughter? He stated the obvious. ‘Then I have a sister? Good Lord!’ and he laughed. ‘That’s wonderful. Are there any more surprises . . .
Mother.
’

Her voice wobbled with tears. ‘None that I can think of. Your sister’s name is Avis.’

His own tears weren’t far away. ‘You’re crying.’

‘I thought you might not want anything to do with me.’

‘On the contrary, I made a rather belated attempt at trying to find you myself. I even wrote a letter, but it was returned. You know that my father is dead?’

‘Yes.’

The clock on the mantelpiece chimed the hour and at the same time the doorbell rang. ‘Look, Mother, I really must go since my partner is coming in. Will you give me your number so I can call you back? This afternoon I expect, about four. And yes, we must make arrangements to see each other. I can easily get up to London in April.’

He wrote down the number she gave him, then said, ‘By the way, how did you know I was still living here . . . at home?’