Chapter 21

Rose found Kate at the bottom of the garden, shivering by the fence. The last glimmer of silvery light in the west touched her downcast face. Her cheeks were wet with tears. Rose was puzzled by why she should be so upset; Kate hardly let anything get her down.

‘You shouldn’t worry what he says about Lord Roberts,’ Rose chided. ‘He was pleased with the picture, I could tell.’

Kate shook her head. ‘It wasn’t the picture.’

‘Us moving then?’ Rose questioned. ‘You’re upset at us moving.’

Kate sniffed. ‘Aye.’

Rose sighed. ‘It had to come sometime - I knew we couldn’t stay on here for ever. Your father’s right: I can’t manage and it’ll be easier for Jack—’

‘Jack!’ Kate cried. ‘It’s always what’s best for Jack.’

Rose was taken aback. ‘He’s just turned fourteen. He’s still a young lad, and he still lives at home - you don’t,’ Rose said pointedly. ‘It’s not like you to be jealous of our Jack.’

Kate looked at her with soulful eyes. ‘Oh, Mam, I’m sorry. It’s not our Jack either.’

‘Then what?’ Rose pressed. ‘What’s bothering you, hinny?’

‘It’s Learn Lane - Tyne Dock - we don’t belong there. And next to the Twenty-Seven - that terrible place!’

Kate could not begin to explain to her mother how much she was afraid of it. It was part of the nightmare of her childhood, begging on the streets for food. When the doors of the well-off had been shut in her face, Tyne Dock was where she had stood outside the pubs begging the men for the remains in their bait tins. Grubby bread and treacle wrapped in newspaper, that was what Learn Lane and the Twenty-Seven meant to her.

‘We’ve managed in worse places,’ Rose said defensively. ‘There’re still decent folk live round there, don’t you forget that. Don’t judge a book by its cover!’

‘That’s as maybe,’ Kate cried in desperation, ‘but I could never bring him home to such a place!’ It was out before she could stop herself.

Rose stared at her, first in disbelief, then with shock as realisation dawned. ‘Your gentleman,’ Rose whispered. ‘You’re talking about him, aren’t you?’

Kate bit her lip, furious with herself for speaking her thoughts. They were wild thoughts, dreams that might come to nothing. And because of her impetuous words she had hurt her mother, she could tell by the wounded look on the older woman’s face.

‘You’re ashamed of us,’ Rose said, feeling numb inside. ‘You’re ashamed of your own mother.’

‘No, Mam!’ Kate cried, grabbing her mother’s arm. ‘Not of you!’ Her pretty face was pleading. ‘Please believe I’d never be ashamed of you. It’s just Learn Lane and ...’

Rose felt tears sting her eyes. ‘I know - your father,’ she finished for her.

‘He’s not me father!’ Kate said in a voice full of rancour.

Rose pulled away. ‘He’s kept a roof over our heads all these years - including yours. He at least deserves your respect for that.’

Kate shook her head. ‘You did that, not him,’ she cried.

Rose looked at her daughter and felt overwhelming sadness. A huge gulf separated them and it was of her own making. She had encouraged Kate to go away and better herself, yearned for the day she would return with a ring on her finger, having won the heart of a respectable, prosperous man. How could she blame her for wanting to distance herself from the grubby, noisy poverty of Tyne Dock? Wherever they lived, Rose realised too late, Kate would probably shun them. That must be why she had been so coy about telling them she was courting. She wanted to keep her admirer and her new life quite separate from them.

‘Is he so very grand?’ Rose asked quietly, searching her daughter’s face.

Kate hardly dared meet her mother’s look. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.

Suddenly Rose was filled with foreboding. Had Kate set her sights too high? Was she involved with someone too far above her station for safety? On impulse she stepped towards Kate and pulled her close, gathering her arms about the girl’s slender shoulders.

‘Oh, lass! I fear for you!’

‘Oh, Mam, don’t!’

Kate clung to her mother as she had not done since childhood, and wept. She had thought never to feel her strong hug again. Her mother seemed to have forgotten how to touch them these past years. But it felt so good now; strength flowing from the older woman to give her courage.

‘I know you’d like him. He’s kind and funny and so handsome. I don’t know what he sees in me.’

‘Don’t you do yourself down,’ Rose declared. ‘You were meant for better things than skivvying. You hold your head up high when you walk out with this Mr - what d’you call him?’

‘Pringle-Davies.’ Kate blushed.

‘Aye, Pringle ...’ What was it about the name that was familiar? Rose struggled to remember. It did not matter now. Having Kate hold on so affectionately was weakening her resolve to let her daughter go.

With difficulty, Rose pulled away. She would not break down in front of her daughter. She had not stayed strong for her all these years to betray herself as weak now. Rose gulped back the tears in her throat. How she wanted to protect Kate!

‘You’re right,’ Rose said hoarsely, ‘don’t let him come here. If you’ve a chance of happiness, lass, take it. By God, you take it!’

They looked at each other, both shaking with the cold and the emotion that clawed at their insides. Kate reached forward to touch her again, but Rose drew back. She did not trust herself to embrace the girl again; she would not have the strength to let her go.

‘But whatever you do and wherever you go,’ Rose added stoutly, ‘don’t you ever be ashamed of who you are! You’ve had good parents - God-fearing parents who’ve brought you up to do right, however poor we’ve been.’ She raised her hand and lightly touched Kate’s cheek as if in farewell. ‘Remember you were born a Fawcett - you were your da’s favourite. I’ve given you that, so be proud of it. Make me proud of you, lass.’

She withdrew her hand swiftly and turned away.

‘Mam,’ Kate rasped, ‘don’t go!’

But Rose kept on walking towards the cottage. They both knew that in that moment of truth when Rose had laid bare her feelings, she was also letting go. Rose did not look back; she could not in case her resolve wavered. She would rather her daughter went back to Lamesley and never saw her again, disowned her family, if it meant a chance at happiness with a man above her station who could give her security. Although the pain of separation would be raw, she would give up her daughter for William’s sake - for her beloved William’s memory!

As she reached the door, Rose heard Kate sob, ‘I will, Mam - I’ll make you proud!’

Rose glanced round and gasped to see Kate’s face caught in the golden light of the winter sunset. Her tear-stained face looked beatific. There was no other way to describe it. At that moment she had the face of an angel.

The long ago words of a gypsy whom John had riled at a fair rang in her ears. The woman had predicted the sorrows and upheavals of the past years, but also a ray of hope, that at the end of her life Rose would be blessed with an angel child. Kate would give her that angel child, Rose was certain of it. Kate was her chosen one. She would carry on where Rose could not. In time she would bring her greater joy. Rose smiled at her daughter, then opened the door and went inside.

Kate was left trembling in the dark, weeping at the weight of responsibility she felt pressing upon her. She had seen it in her mother’s eyes, heard it in the way she spoke of Kate’s real father. Her mother had freed her from her stepfather’s dominance, but in return there was a price to pay. Rose expected the world from her.

Kate looked up into the late afternoon sky, already dark. There was just a glimpse of a new moon hanging over the copse, lifting like the sail of a ship. A new beginning. Kate took heart from the omen. She turned and looked behind her, to the south where Ravensworth and her other existence lay.

‘Oh, Mam,’ she whispered in the frosty stillness, ‘I wish I had as much faith in myself as you do - and as stout a heart.’

Then she thought of the man she loved, the man with auburn hair and glinting eyes that danced with dangerous merriment. The man with the deep voice that flattered and teased and told her she was beautiful. The man of a hundred tales, who claimed his mother had been a Liddell who had eloped with the coachman Pringle. The man who tempted her to recklessness too.

‘Alexander.’ She whispered his name tentatively, blushing at her daring. A wave of tender longing swept over her.

‘Alexander!’ she called out more boldly, as if she could conjure him to her. ‘Soon we’ll be together again.’

Then, before facing the others and putting on a cheerful facade, she blew a kiss in the direction of Ravensworth. For after today, Kate knew more than ever that was where her heart and her destiny lay.