Tyringham Park
1918
When their youngest boy was twelve, Sid’s wife Kate died at the age of forty-four giving birth to their seventh child and first daughter. There had been a lot of joking about the lengths people would go to have a seventh son, especially as Sid was a seventh son, and how they wouldn’t be able to control the crowds finding their way to the Park when the time came for the young one to practise his gifts of healing and prophecy.
Kate had been alone when the baby arrived four weeks early. Sid was in the workshop, realigning a coach wheel that had hit a rock and buckled. The older boys no longer lived at home: two had emigrated to America, one was away at the war and two in Dublin worked as apprentices, leaving only Keith, the youngest, who was in the back fields shooting rabbits at the time.
Sid arrived home to find his Kate without any signs of life, lying on the kitchen floor. In her arms was the longed-for daughter, wrapped in a blanket, crying but warm and unharmed. Typical of her to attend to the baby even though she must have been in a dreadful state. Kate had left it too late to look for help. A dinted copper pot and bent ladle were found beside the open back door. No one had responded to the banging. Sid tormented himself remembering how he thought he’d heard a faint echo when he was straightening out the wheel with a sledgehammer and how he’d dismissed the idea as fanciful. It broke his heart to think he could have been alerted to the significance of that sound if he’d stopped to listen for even a minute.
One of the women from the village who had a week-old son took the child, called Catherine after her mother, and cared for her in her own home.
Lily East visited Sid to offer her condolences, and attended the funeral in the small church in the grounds, as did everyone on the estate and so many villagers that a large number had to remain outside in the churchyard during the service.
When Sid returned to work, Lily visited him often for the morning tea break in his workshop but not his cottage as she didn’t want to create a scandal.
“That’s a laugh,” said Sid when she explained why she didn’t go near the cottage. “Who’d be looking at two old ones like us?”
“You can’t be too careful. I don’t want to dishonour the memory of dear Kate.” She wondered if anyone remembered that she and Sid had had a five-year romance after she’d arrived at the Park. Probably not. Back then, she and Sid had been the youngest employees, and now they were the oldest.
“It’s good of you to take the time. I like to talk about Kate and you’re a good listener. You’re so peaceful.”
Lily let out a burst of laughter. “Not always. I can get riled at times.”
“True enough. Like the time last year you gave Nurse Dixon her marching orders the minute Her Ladyship’s back were turned.”
“Oh dear. Did it look as obvious as that?”
“Only to me and I never talked about it. I seen the way she give Charlotte a hard time so I were glad you done it. My Kate used to worry about Charlotte having that unhappy little face all the time. She’s a new girl since you took her on.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that. I think she’s blossoming nicely. Though slowly.”
“It do take time.” Sid’s voice faltered, and Miss East took the cup out of his hand as the tea was sloshing into the saucer.
“You never said a truer thing,” she said.
Six months after Kate’s death, Lily asked Sid to her rooms for afternoon tea, and he wondered what was serious enough for her to want to talk about that she would issue such an unusual invitation, so aware was she of propriety at all times.
Instead of the expected tea, Lily gave him a whiskey and poured herself a sherry.
Sid glanced around the room. “You keep it nice,” he said. “Real homey.”
“If the offer is still open, Sid, I accept,” said Lily.
Sid looked bewildered. “What offer’s that then, Lily?”
“Marriage, of course. You haven’t made me any other offers.”
“That were a long time ago, and I were greatly upset when you refused me then.”
“Me, too. But things turned out for the best, didn’t they?”
“Not for you, I don’t think, with no husband or child to call your own.”
“I’ve had employment and peace of mind and friendship. Can’t complain about that. That’s more than a lot of people have. No need to ask about you.”
“Kate were the best wife a man could have, and the boys are a credit to their mother.”
“And their father.”
“Their mother mostly. I were working all hours. I see so little of Catherine I can’t believe she’s mine. And every time I look at her I see her mother.” He took a long sip. “That’s not true, neither. With only Keith in the cottage now I sometimes wonder did it all happen. Everything is fading, like a dream. Sometimes I think I’m going off me head.” He took a longer gulp. “I would love to marry you, Lily. I loved you from the first time I seen you, when I carried you into the doctor’s and was afraid you was dead. And you was only fourteen years of age. But why would you marry me now when you wouldn’t marry me then? Do you feel sorry for me?” He looked up. “Is it Catherine? Everyone knows you love children and always wanted to be a nanny.”
“No, it’s not Catherine, though I’m aware if we marry you can have her back living with you. And it’s not pity. I dearly wanted to marry you back then.”
“But you said you’d never marry anyone.”
“And I didn’t.”
“Then why . . . ?”
“Because I knew early on I could never have children because of some early illness, and I didn’t want you to be without because of me.”
“You should have said. I would have married you anyway.”
“I knew that. That’s why I didn’t tell you. And I’m glad. Look at you now with six fine sons and a daughter and you wouldn’t be without them.”
He nodded slowly. “I wouldn’t. And much as I loved you then, I wouldn’t be without those years with Kate.”
“Then I did make the right decision.”
“Who knows about these things? I put you out of my mind for all them years, but I liked the fact you was around. I wonder did I love the two of you at the same time?”
It was agreed they’d wait for the year out of respect for Kate’s memory.
“What about Charlotte? She’ll miss you something awful if you leave her now.”
“I’ve thought long and hard about her, but really she’ll be leaving me, not the other way around. She’s off to boarding school next month when she turns ten and they only come home as visitors after that. And during holidays she’ll be staying in the Dublin house or with friends from school. If she needed me, I’d never desert her, but my responsibilities are nearly over. And it’s not as if I’ll be leaving the estate – she can still come and visit me in your cottage, Sid, now that I know the offer’s still open.”
“As if there were ever any doubt about that, Lily,” said Sid, “though I think you’re doing this for the sake of little Catherine.”
“Believe me, Sid. I’m doing this just for you and me,” said Lily, and when he looked into her face, he knew it to be true.