A Daughter's Journe Read online

  But just as he was about to load their luggage into his taxi, a large saloon car drew up and a man got out of it, well-dressed and in his middle years.

  Edna clutched Jo’s arm. ‘I’m sure that’s my cousin Clarence! Goodness, he’s grown very plump. He was such a good-looking young man, too.’

  Well, he wasn’t a good-looking older man, Jo thought. In fact, she found him quite repulsive, she couldn’t work out why. Maybe it was the arrogant expression on his rather podgy face. She preferred to study his car, which was a shiny black Rover.

  He strode towards them. ‘Edna? We got your telegram but I’m a town councillor and had to attend a meeting at the town hall today. I’m afraid it took longer than I’d expected.’ He looked towards Jo, clearly waiting for a proper introduction.

  ‘This is my stepdaughter, Josephine. I told you about her in my letter. Josephine, this is my cousin, Clarence Rathley.’

  ‘It’s Jo, not Josephine,’ she corrected.

  He studied the younger woman from head to toe and inclined his head. ‘Miss Melling.’ He didn’t wait for her to reply but turned back to his cousin. ‘You haven’t changed much, my dear. You’re as pretty as ever.’

  ‘And you’re still a fine figure of a man, Clarry.’

  It sickened Jo how Edna fluttered her eyelashes at her cousin – she was nearly fifty and should be past that sort of girlish trick. And she’d just told a blatant lie. The ‘fine figure of a man’ had a large belly, very little hair left and his mean, pinched little mouth was almost hidden by his puffy jowls. He strutted about as if he owned the world, arrogance personified.

  He still didn’t address her, but he looked. Oh, my, how he looked! His eyes lingered on her breasts in a way which made her feel as if she was undressed. She hated men who treated women like that.

  ‘Is that your luggage, Edna? My goodness, what a lot there is! We’ll send it to the house by taxi and I’ll take you and your stepdaughter home with me in the car.’

  ‘I’d better stay and make sure they bring everything,’ Jo said. ‘If you give the taxi driver your address, he can bring me along shortly, Mr Rathley.’ She wasn’t going to call him cousin.

  Clarence looked down his nose at her. ‘The fellow knows exactly who I am, believe me. I have a respected position in this town. And a young lady like yourself should leave those with older and wiser heads to make the arrangements.’

  Edna made a tutting sound and shook her head at Jo, before turning back to her cousin, ‘I’m afraid young ladies in the colonies are rather independent in their behaviour, but perhaps it might be better if Josephine did keep an eye on our luggage. She’s very capable about everyday matters. There are quite a few pieces of luggage because I don’t intend to return to Australia, and I’d hate to lose anything.’

  ‘Very well, then. Let her do it. You can come with me, Edna. Welcome to Birch End, my dear.’ He offered his cousin his arm and his chauffeur moved quickly to open the rear car doors for him and Edna.

  Clarence hadn’t welcomed her to Birch End, Jo thought, or even given her a farewell nod before walking away. All his attention now was for his cousin. Could he be one of those people who despised colonials, and considered them inferior? She’d met such an attitude on the ship and if they’d been rude to her, she’d treated them in a similar way.

  Here, however, she wasn’t sure how best to deal with it and didn’t want to start off on the wrong foot with Edna’s family, so she said nothing.

  His booming voice floated back to her. He must be slightly deaf to speak so loudly.

  ‘It’s good to see you back in civilised parts, Edna. I never did like your first husband taking you out to the colonies and what were you thinking of to marry a colonial when he died? Life must have been very hard out there for a delicately bred lady like you.’

  Jo let out a scornful huff. Delicately bred, indeed. Edna was a plump, indolent woman who ate heartily and never lifted a finger to help anyone but herself.

  The last thing she heard was Clarence asking Edna if her second husband had done the right thing by her financially and she paused to listen before getting into the taxi.

  ‘Oh, yes! I have an income for life, and a generous one, too. The money is being managed by a gentleman in Australia who is the executor, and it doesn’t go to Jo till I die or remarry.’

  ‘What did she get?’

  ‘I believe she has what’s left from the sale of the farm.’

  ‘We’ll have to look into that. It doesn’t seem a fair arrangement to me. You should be entitled to a permanent share in his estate, Edna, and I’m sure a British lawyer would be able to deal with the capital more efficiently than a colonial chappie.’

  She dabbed at her eyes. ‘I never could understand money.’

  The driver closed the door of the big black car just then, so that was all Jo heard. She watched it drive away. It looked expensive and Clarence had got into the back as if he were a duke, with a chauffeur fussing over him and his passenger, so he couldn’t be short of money.

  What a strange thing to ask a cousin you hadn’t seen for over a decade before you’d even got her home: how much money she’d been left. Was that all Rathley cared about?

  She was glad she hadn’t told her stepmother the full details about the financial arrangements her father had made for his daughter. He’d been right about that being best kept quiet, as he had been about so many things – except his need for female company. In between her mother dying and him re-marrying he had been seen with a series of women in Perth, and spiteful people hadn’t hesitated to tell her about that.

  Well, that was all water under the bridge now and even though the money situation wasn’t fully settled yet, she had easily enough to manage on, thanks to an inheritance from her mother’s parents. She wasn’t sure Edna knew about that and she certainly didn’t intend to tell her.

  Now that she’d met him, she wished she didn’t have to go and stay with Mr Rathley. She didn’t know when she’d taken such an instant dislike to anyone. And yet she’d taken an instant liking to the stranger sharing their compartment. How strange!

  As the car vanished round a corner, Jo turned to the taxi driver, who was still waiting patiently. ‘Sorry about the delay. You must add something to your charge to cover the lost opportunities for more fares.’

  ‘Thank you, miss, but Mr Rathley wouldn’t like that. He knows the taxi rates to a penny.’

  ‘Well, I’m the one who’ll be paying you, so it’s up to me what I give you.’

  The man looked at her warily. ‘You’re paying?’

  ‘Yes.’ She grinned at him. ‘Us Australians are rather independent-minded.’

  He hesitated, then said, ‘Well, if you’ll take my advice, miss, you’ll not cross that man. Mr Rathley is very much king of the castle in his own home, as everyone in Birch End knows. Anyway, I doubt there will be any more people looking for taxis until the next train arrives, so I’m not in any hurry. Dick Simpson, that’s my name. Do you have a list of your luggage, miss?’

  She tapped her forehead. ‘In here. Those are our things over there, that pile of bags just inside the entrance. Will they all fit into your taxi?’

  ‘Probably. I’d better get out the longer straps for the rear luggage rack, though, if you’ll excuse me for a moment.’

  She nodded. ‘I’ll go and check that they’ve unloaded everything. I should have checked before now really.’

  That wasn’t like her. She’d been a bit distracted by her stepmother’s fussing and then the arrival of the arrogant cousin. She headed off to check that everything was in order.

  She couldn’t get out of going to Rathley’s home for one night, but she doubted she’d stay longer, not if she could help it. But what was she going to do? It would look so rude if she were to leave her stepmother so abruptly.

  2

  N ick Howarth had helped the two women into his compartment on the train automatically when he saw them rushing to get on board quickly. He’d been hoping for
a peaceful journey at this time of day, but there you were. You didn’t always get what you wanted. He helped them settle down then sat as far away from them as he could, hiding behind his newspaper.

  He couldn’t help overhearing what they were saying, though, and if they’d been men, he’d have got talking to them about Australia because he liked to find out about the world. But you couldn’t do that with ladies.

  As the journey passed, the older one started berating her companion for what sounded to him like a series of imaginary faults, including flirting with him. He was astonished at that, it was so patently untrue, and the newspaper slipped down. The younger lady had been pleasant enough, yes, but not in the way the older female was suggesting, and there had been no sign of her wanting to flirt with him.

  Actually, that made a change from what had been happening to him lately, with one woman where he used to live trying to compromise him so that he’d marry her. He had been engaged once, years ago, and poor Dulcie had died of pneumonia before they could marry. Since then he’d not met a woman he wanted to spend his life with.

  Mind you, he did find this younger woman attractive, in what he thought of as an outdoor way. She had dark hair, rosy cheeks and eyes that sparkled with interest as she gazed out of the window and tried to ignore her companion. She reminded him of a friend’s sister, who was a farmer’s wife and a hard worker. He respected such women much more than the ladies he thought of as ‘butterflies’, who were no use to man or beast that he could see.

  He sighed. Even if he had met someone, the hard times people were experiencing, especially in the north, would have made it difficult to make a home together. He’d gone to work in the Midlands after Dulcie died, lodging with his older brother, who’d moved there first, because you could get a job there. Times weren’t as hard in the southern half of the country. Sometimes it seemed as if there were two completely separate parts to England.

  When the train stopped, he let the two ladies get out first, helped by the porter, then lifted his own suitcases out of the train. He paused on the platform to stare along towards the open square in the town centre, part of which was visible outside the entrance.

  Living in Rivenshaw again, eh? The neat station with its two boxes bright with flowers didn’t seem to have changed at all, but he had. Life did that to you.

  He held back, not wanting the older woman to accuse her companion of encouraging him. Half hidden by a big advertising poster on a stand, he watched the porter make sure all the outgoing passengers were safely on the train before giving the signal to the engine driver that it was safe to leave.

  Only when the ladies had moved out through the entrance did Nick pick up his own suitcases again. But on his way out of the station he got talking to the porter, who was now stacking the ladies’ luggage in the entrance. They were standing outside as if expecting someone to meet them, but no one had.

  ‘Do you need directions, sir?’ the porter asked.

  ‘No, thanks. I used to live in Rivenshaw about ten years ago. Do you think the place has changed much?’

  ‘Not really. People grow older, buildings grow a little shabbier, but we’re getting by. Not as bad as some places.’ He hesitated, then asked, ‘Do you have somewhere to go, sir?’

  Nick smiled. ‘Yes. Todd Selby is letting me have a room. Do you know him?’

  ‘Everyone does. Nice, friendly gentleman. Married Mrs Willcox from Ellindale last year and he’s a partner of Charlie Willcox.’

  Nick saw an opportunity to spread the word about his new business. ‘Well, Todd’s an army acquaintance of my older brother and he’s going to help me set up to teach driving. It’ll benefit us both. The customers who buy his cars can learn to drive from me; my customers can buy cars from him.’

  The porter chatted for a few moments, but kept an eye on the station clock and after a while excused himself to prepare for the arrival of the next train.

  As Nick turned to leave, the loop of his shoelace caught on a nail protruding from the leg of a wooden bench and came undone. He bent to refasten it and from where he was kneeling, saw a young lad peep round a corner once the porter had left the area.

  The boy mustn’t have been able to see Nick because he ran across and snatched one of the smaller bags, running towards Nick to get away. It was instinctive to lunge forward and grab him by the shoulder.

  ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ he roared.

  The lad dropped the bag and kicked out, desperately trying to wriggle out of Nick’s grasp.

  ‘Stand still, you!’

  At that moment the young woman came back into the station and hearing the lad pleading to be let go, hurried across to join them.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘This boy was trying to pinch one of your bags.’ He indicated the bag lying on the ground nearby. The lad was still a child really and his gaunt face told its own story. The famine look, people called it.

  She turned towards the scrawny youngster and her features softened. ‘Why did you do that?’

  The boy jerked as far away from her as he could, holding his free arm in front of his face as if expecting her to thump him. Even when it was clear that she wasn’t going to do that, he made no attempt to answer. He was shivering now and trying not to cry, all resistance gone out of him.

  ‘Times are hard round here,’ Nick said quietly. ‘He’s probably hungry. But that’s still no excuse for thieving. No excuse! ’ He shook the lad again, not hard, just to emphasise what he’d said, then looked round. ‘Isn’t your mother with you, miss?’

  ‘She’s my stepmother , not my mother,’ Jo corrected automatically, but her attention remained on the lad. ‘She’s gone ahead with her cousin. I’ve been ordered to take the luggage to his house by taxi.’

  The sharp way she spoke made him guess she wasn’t best pleased with how she’d been treated. Well, he’d heard the stepmother berating her for nothing on the train, hadn’t he?

  The taxi driver came back on to the platform just then, took one look at the lad and hurried across to the small group. ‘What’s the matter?’

  Nick explained and the man sighed. ‘Jimmy, you promised me you’d stop thieving.’

  ‘I was hungry an’ so was my mam, Mr Simpson. We’ve had nothing to eat today an’ only a slice of stale bread yesterday.’

  ‘What happened to her job?’

  ‘She’s been ill again, comes over all dizzy if she stands up, can’t do the heavy scrubbing.’

  The taxi driver looked pleadingly at Nick. ‘Please don’t call in the police, sir. If he’s taken anything, I’ll pay for it. I grew up in the same street as his mam and she’d be horrified by this. He isn’t a bad lad, but the father ran off with another woman last year and Jimmy’s mam has been struggling ever since to put bread on the table. They’ll be sent to the poorhouse – or worse – if the authorities catch him stealing.’

  Nick fumbled in his pocket and produced a shilling but held it out of reach. ‘If you’ll promise me never to steal again, Jimmy, I’ll give you this.’ He’d sometimes been hungry as a lad, knew how awful it felt.

  The boy gaped at him then at the shilling coin as if unable to believe what he’d heard.

  ‘Do as the gentleman says, Jimmy,’ the taxi driver said. ‘And thank him for his help. Mind you take that money straight to your mam. She’ll get more food for it than you could. I’m sure you can help her round to the corner shop to buy something.’

  The boy looked at Nick as if he was a god. ‘Thanks, mister.’ He looked at the taxi driver. ‘I won’t do it again, Mr Simpson.’ He made a swift gesture of crossing his heart.

  Nick let go of his shoulder and gave him the coin. ‘You should say sorry to the lady, too. It was her bag you tried to steal.’

  He sniffed and nodded. ‘Sorry, missus. Only I was that hungry an’ someone said they’d give me money for the bag.’

  The taxi driver shook his head at Nick as if to warn him not to pursue this, so he didn’t ask who’d be
en pushing the lad to steal.

  ‘Here.’ Jo pulled the remains of a squashed Fry’s chocolate bar out of her handbag and gave it to Jimmy. ‘This’ll put you on a bit till you get some proper food.’

  ‘Oooh, thanks, missus!’

  He was already cramming a piece into his mouth as he ran off.

  ‘I’ll deal with them as are trying to lead him astray,’ the taxi driver said grimly. ‘They’re not going to mess about with my passengers.’

  Nick turned back to the young woman. ‘I hope you don’t mind me letting him go?’

  ‘Of course not. It isn’t the first time I’ve seen such things. Some people are having a tough time in Australia as well. Hunger can drive folk to do things they’d not do with full bellies. And he’s only a lad. Did you see how thin he was, poor thing? Well done for helping him.’

  She offered her hand to Nick to shake. ‘I’m Jo Melling, by the way. We didn’t introduce ourselves properly on the train. I’ve just arrived from Australia.’

  He’d taken her hand before it sank in how unusual her action was for a lady to shake hands as a man would have done. ‘I’m Nick Howarth, newly returned to Rivenshaw, to start up a business giving driving lessons.’ He’d promised himself to mention it to as many people as he could so that word would get around.

  She gave him a sunny smile. ‘I saw an article about plans for driving tests to be required in yesterday’s newspaper. I found it lying on the seat in the first train and I’ve read most of it now. I’ve still got it in my bag, if you’d like it to read.’

  ‘I’d be interested in seeing the article. I think everyone should have driving lessons before they take to the roads. Some people are downright dangerous when they get behind the wheel of a car. Um, I hope you don’t mind me asking but have they left you behind? I hope you’ve got somewhere to stay.’

  ‘I’m to accompany the luggage. I’m assuming I’ll be staying with my stepmother at her cousin’s house – at least, that was the plan. I didn’t take to Mr Rathley, though, however important he thinks he is, so I doubt I’ll want to stay there for long. He obviously doesn’t like colonials and the way he looks at women, well, it’s not decent.’