CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

SARAH SEEMED BEMUSED and disappointed that Bella and Joe were not enthusiastic about the prospect of living and working at the Maritime. ‘Bart wouldn’t have got it so wrong,’ she insisted when they told her about the state of it. ‘You’re onny saying this so that I’ll change my mind about going. And I won’t,’ she said emphatically. ‘I want to go back.’

‘It’s going to cost money, Ma,’ Bella told her, ‘unless ’brewery will pay for putting it right.’

‘They won’t,’ she said stubbornly. ‘I got ’ingoing for a pittance. I told ’em in a letter that we’d pay for repairs and decoration.’

‘That was before we’d seen it, Ma,’ Bella said. ‘You’ve been misled. Let me write a letter to them saying that it’s in a poor condition but we’re willing to take it if they’ll put in some investment.’

Her mother stared at her, clearly considering that she had been offered a lifeline, that she needn’t lose face after all. ‘Your uncle Bart—’

‘Can’t have seen it,’ Bella finished for her. ‘He surely wouldn’t have recommended it if he had.’ But why did he, she wondered? What made him suggest it?

Her mother finally agreed that Bella should write to the brewery in her name, which Bella did with all speed. Time was running out. They would have to clear out the Woodman and tell their customers they were leaving, arrange for a removal waggon to transport their belongings, and then begin the clean-up at the Maritime.

In her letter, Bella explained that they had understood that the Maritime was an established public house and were greatly distressed and concerned on visiting the premises to find that it was derelict. Without saying that they had been deceived she managed to imply that they had been. She wrote: ‘My late husband and I have run a successful and profitable country inn for over twenty years without hindrance or loss of integrity or honour and expected the same return in the dealings with your esteemed selves. Alas, I am greatly disappointed.’

She went on, in what she thought was the right tone, to ask for investment in the property so that they could make it into a rewarding and flourishing business, and said that if this wasn’t forthcoming they would consult their lawyers with a view to withdrawing from the contract.

Bella reread the letter and sat back with an air of satisfaction. Miss Hawkins had given her a book as a school-leaving present called The Universal Letter Writer. It wasn’t a new book but one of the teacher’s own, and Bella hadn’t had the opportunity to use it before, even though she had perused the contents avidly. In this instance it proved to be very useful, and by following the form of ‘Letters on business’ and using words she wouldn’t normally have thought of, she was sure that it would appear to have come from someone older and better educated than she was. She carefully checked her spelling, and, convinced that it was as perfect as she could make it, took it downstairs for her mother to sign.

Sarah insisted on reading it first and squinted over the contents. Her lips moved as she read and Bella waited anxiously. Then her mother looked up. ‘You never wrote this by yourself, Bella!’

‘Of course I did, Ma. Who else could have done it?’

‘Well, I don’t know, but it’s a proper letter all right. I didn’t know you could write like this. I wouldn’t have known what to say to ’em.’

Bella felt a stab of pride, followed by a sensation of disconsolation. No one had taken her seriously when she had wanted to stay on at school and teach the children. Nobody believed me, she thought, except Miss Hawkins, and I know she was disappointed when I told her I had to leave.

‘So, it’s all right is it, Ma? You’ll sign it?’

‘They’ll think I wrote it, won’t they?’

Bella hesitated. ‘I’ll write my name at ’bottom, under your signature, if you like,’ she said. ‘And put “innkeeper’s daughter”. Then they’ll know there are two of us to deal with.’

‘Three.’ Joe had come into the kitchen and heard some of the conversation. ‘I’ll put my name to what you’ve written.’

‘But you haven’t read it,’ Bella said.

‘Don’t matter. I’ll sign it anyway, then there’re three of us for them to battle wi’.’

‘Let’s hope we don’t have to do battle with anybody,’ she sighed.

Bella and her mother sorted out cupboards and drawers and put to one side a pile of unwanted clothing, baby clothes which Sarah stated firmly she wouldn’t be needing any more, clean but stained tablecloths and other items which were no longer used. Bella thought she would take them down to the village and ask Alice’s mother to distribute them to anyone who might want them; a polite way of allowing her to choose any items that she might like to keep for herself.

At four o’clock one afternoon, when it was sunny after a morning of rain and an hour before they opened the door of the inn, she piled everything into a bag and decided that today was as good as any.

She found her mother in the kitchen resting in an easy chair. ‘I’m going to Mrs Walker’s, Ma. I won’t be long.’

Her mother nodded. ‘Tell her we’re leaving, and tek her a loaf.’ She raised a finger in the direction of the larder. ‘Tell her I mixed too much dough.’

‘I will,’ Bella agreed; her mother still had a soft spot for Ellen Walker even after all this time.

Her main aim, apart from handing over goods which she was sure Mrs Walker could use or sell, was to ask her to pass on a message to Alice to tell her they were leaving the village. She was very surprised when Alice herself opened the door to her knock.

‘Hello,’ Bella said. ‘I didn’t expect to see you. Is it a day off?’

Alice screwed up her mouth and shook her head. Her eyes were red, and her face was blotchy as if she had been crying.

‘Can I come in?’ Bella asked. ‘I’ve come to see your ma.’

Alice opened the door wider but didn’t speak. Her mother was seated by the fire in a hard chair, feeding a baby. Bella was confused. Was this yet another child? There seemed to be no end to the number of infants Mrs Walker kept bringing into the world and it was difficult to keep count.

‘We’re having a clear-out, Mrs Walker; I don’t know if you heard that we’re leaving ’Woodman? Ma wants to go back to Hull where she came from. She said could you give this stuff out to whoever would like it?’

Ellen Walker gazed at her with tired eyes. ‘I wish I could go back to where I came from,’ she said in a low, sad voice. ‘Back to ’beginning in my ma’s belly and not ever be born.’ She took a deep shuddering breath. ‘There’s been nowt in this life but misery. Can’t think why I was put on this earth.’

Bella didn’t know what to say. She glanced at Alice, who stood there as if dumb.

‘And now our Alice is back home again,’ Mrs Walker went on. ‘Sacked from her job for no reason that I can mek out. So there’s another mouth to feed, for she’ll get no other job wi’out a reference.’

Bella looked again at Alice, whose eyes began to spout tears. ‘I’m sorry, Alice,’ she said. ‘So sorry.’ She could guess just how vital her job had been to the family’s income.

‘Weren’t my fault,’ Alice said in a strangled voice. ‘Missis wanted a younger lass who’d work for less than I was getting.’ She wiped her face with her apron. ‘I told her that I’d tek a cut in me wages but she said no, she wanted a change o’ face. Miserable old cow,’ she blurted out. ‘Seeing as I spent most o’ time on me hands and knees an’ she nivver saw me face, onny me backside. She should tek a look in ’mirror at her own.’

She burst into an onslaught of crying and her mother just looked away, resignation etched on her lined face.

‘I, erm.’ Bella fished about in the bag. ‘I’ve brought a loaf. Ma said would you have it as she mixed up too much dough.’

Mrs Walker allowed herself a ghost of a smile. ‘There’s no need to mek excuses, miss,’ she said softly. ‘I lost any pride I had long ago. I’ll tek owt that’s on offer if it means I can feed m’bairns.’

‘Where are you going?’ Alice sniffled. ‘I mean, are you tekking another hostelry?’

‘Yes.’ Bella nodded. ‘At least – yes! It needs a lot of work. Brewery, or at least ’last tenant, has left it in a mess. We’re waiting to hear from them.’

‘Can I come wi’ you?’ Alice’s plea caught Bella unawares and she blinked. ‘I can help,’ Alice said. ‘I’m good at cleaning, scrubbing floors, owt. I’ve even cleaned out ’cow shed at ’farm.’

‘Well – well, it’s up to Ma,’ Bella began, but she was struck by the thought that they would need somebody. She couldn’t be everywhere and do everything herself and the Maritime would have to be made liveable and workable if they took it; her mother would look after the cooking and baking, Joe wouldn’t do very much except in the cellar unless she could get him off his drinking, and she discounted Nell who was always missing if there was a job to be done. ‘Can I let you know? As I said, we’re waiting to hear from ’brewery.’ She gave her friend a beaming smile. ‘It would be good if you could come, Alice. I’d like that.’

Alice smiled back. ‘So would I. So I’ll hold off all ’other jobs I’m offered, shall I?’

Bella laughed, and although nothing was certain until such time as they received a reply to her letter, she felt relief. Here was someone she could rely upon, someone she could trust.

Sarah said that they should hold a birthday tea for Henry before they left the Woodman. ‘He’ll not be going to ’village school with ’other bairns, but we’ll invite some of them and give them cake and lemonade, so that he’ll remember ’time he was here. It’s important,’ she said, ‘that he remembers where he comes from.’

Bella was astonished that her mother would take the trouble. She couldn’t recall any time when she or her siblings had ever invited friends to tea, birthdays or not. She put it down to her mother’s awareness that she was taking them away from the only home they had ever known, and although she, Joe, William and Nell would retain their memories of childhood at the Woodman, Henry probably wouldn’t.

They asked several children of Henry’s age, including Aaron, Alice’s brother. Bella took Henry with her and called to fetch him and noticed the difference in height, even allowing for Henry’s lopsided gait as they walked back. Aaron was small and thin, with a runny nose which he constantly wiped on his sleeve. Henry stared at him and refused to hold his hand as Bella asked him to, defiantly putting his own hands behind his back.

The other children gobbled up food as fast as they could and then went out to play in the paddock, and one by one they went off home. Aaron ate all that was put in front of him except the yellow jelly, which he said was alive because it kept wobbling. When he’d eaten his fill he took what little bread and cake was left on the table and put it in his pocket and said he was taking it to his ma. Bella told him she would wrap it up and put it in a basket, but he shook his head as if he didn’t believe her, got down from the table and said he was going home.

Not a great success, she thought, as she walked him back. She had agreed with her mother that it would be nice for Henry to have children of his own age to play with on his birthday, but he didn’t want to play with them. None were interested in his books, which had once been Bella’s, and Aaron had looked at them with disdain. Henry had glared at Aaron and wrinkled his nose; then he picked up his books and went and sat in a corner and didn’t speak to him.

The next day the postman brought them the news they were waiting for. ‘It’s here, Ma.’ Bella ran into the kitchen waving the letter. ‘It’s come. It’s got ’Hull postmark.’

‘You open it, Bella,’ her mother said. ‘I daren’t. I’m afeard of what it’ll say.’

Bella took a knife from the drawer to slit open the envelope, and then went to the door. ‘Letter’s come, Joe,’ she shouted and he appeared from down the corridor, wiping his hand across his mouth. She gave a slight shake of her head and he frowned.

‘I’m doing nowt,’ he muttered but she didn’t answer. Now wasn’t the time for arguments.

She scanned the letter before lifting her eyes to her mother and giving a nod. ‘It’s an apology of sorts from one of ’directors,’ she said and began to read aloud.

‘Dear Madam, It is with the greatest concern that I have perused your letter regarding the tenancy of the Maritime and understand your disquiet and distress over the state of it. It seems that there has been a misunderstanding between my company and Mr Bartholomew Stroud, who informed us that you were willing to take the premises no matter the condition.’

Bella looked at her mother. ‘Is that Uncle Bart?’

Her mother nodded. ‘I never told him that,’ she said. ‘I told him to find us a nice place.’

‘Well,’ said Bella. ‘It seems he took it upon himself to say you’d have it.’

She went on to read the part in which the director said they would like to come to an agreement with Mrs Thorp if she was still willing to take up the tenancy and make some contribution towards the restoration. It went on to say that they also would contribute and a proposal would be drawn up to the advantage of them both.

‘I don’t understand it,’ Joe said. ‘Why has it been allowed to get in that state?’

‘Maybe it wasn’t making money and the previous tenant just let it run down,’ Bella suggested. ‘So what do you think, Ma? Do we take it or not? It’s a public house, or was, not an inn like we’ve got now.’

‘Aye,’ Joe said, ‘and running a public house will be different from running ’Woodman.’

Bella looked anxiously at her mother. Part of her wanted her to say that they would stay here after all, that they would carry on just as usual. She was fairly sure the owners of the Woodman would be happy to accept the withdrawal of the notice they had given. But part of her also wanted a challenge, a chance to do something other than their usual daily routine, and she thought it might be more exciting to live in a busy town than it was in a country inn.

‘Ma?’ she said again.

Sarah clasped her hands together and rubbed her knuckles against her mouth as she considered. Then slowly she nodded and looked first at Joe and then at Bella. She glanced towards the door where Nell had just come in and was leaning against it.

‘I say let’s tek it.’