Barbara Taylor Bradford - Master of His Fate

It had a big open fireplace and an oven with a range, and a wide window looking out into the back garden. A long oak table stood under the window and it was here they had their meals.

Once the canvas bags were safely on the table, Esther hugged and kissed Rossi and Eddie, and said to James, ‘I’m just going to pop upstairs to see your mother, and then I’ll be back to heat the raspberry vinegar medicine.’

James nodded. ‘I’ll unpack the bags, and Rossi will help me.’

‘I want to help, too,’ Eddie said, and James smiled at him and said he could.

Esther hurried into the front hall and mounted the stairs leading to the main bedroom floor. As she climbed, she could hear Maude coughing, and was quite alarmed when she went into the bedroom and saw her daughter-in-law’s face. It was ashen and there were dark rings under her eyes. Her light brown hair, always so glossy and carefully arranged, was rumpled and unruly.

‘I’m here, Maude,’ Esther said, walking over to the bed, anxiety on the edge of her voice. ‘Would you like some hot soup or just the raspberry vinegar?’

Her daughter-in-law could do no wrong in Esther’s eyes. She had proved to be an adoring wife and mother, and the whole family was devoted to her. To Esther, Maude was the calmest person she had ever known. Maude kept a loving and peaceful household; angry words were unheard of and food was always on the table. The house was clean as a whistle and the children well cared for. Her son was a lucky man. So were her grandchildren.

Pulling up a chair, sitting down next to the bed, Esther leaned closer and said in a low voice, ‘Are you awake, Maude? I’ve brought soup, and my concoction.’

‘Just drowsing; the raspberry vinegar would help,’ Maude whispered, her voice hoarse. ‘Is Jimmy with you?’

‘He’s downstairs with Rossi and Eddie. He came to get me earlier. We had a bite of lunch; then we came straight here. I’ve brought plenty of food, so you mustn’t worry about Matthew and the children being fed. They’ll be all right.’

Maude looked up at her, the sparkle in her dark brown eyes dulled by her illness. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘It’s not the bubonic plague, you know, merely a chill and a sore throat. I’ll be up and about in a few days.’

‘When you’re better, and not until then. I’ll be back in a few minutes, love.’ Esther hurried downstairs.

When she returned to the kitchen, she noticed that the bottle of raspberry vinegar and the jar of chicken soup were on the oak table. Everything else had been put away in the pantry.

‘Is Mother very ill?’ James asked, his worry obvious.

‘No, it’s just one of those bad chills, and she’s a bit chesty. But she’ll be fine. You can go up and see her if you want, or better still, you can take the drink up to her. It’ll only take a moment to boil.’

As she spoke, Esther crossed the room, picked up the bottle, and was back swiftly. Standing over a pan on the oven top, she stirred the raspberry vinegar. To this she added sugar and a large piece of butter, which James had brought to her from the pantry.

‘Is that all it is?’ James asked, sounding surprised, glancing at his grandmother. ‘Just those things boiled together?’

‘More or less,’ Esther nodded. ‘But I prepare the vinegar in a special way and put a few herbs into it as well.’

‘What are they?’

‘That’s a secret.’ Esther winked at him and poured the concoction into a cup. ‘Here it is, my lad. You can take it up to your mother. She must sip it slowly. It’s a bit hot.’

James did as he was told, and when he entered his parents’ bedroom he saw at once how poorly his mother looked. Carrying the cup carefully, he put it down on the bedside table.

Hearing the slight noise, Maude opened her eyes, and a smile surfaced when she saw her eldest son. ‘There you are, Jimmy.’

‘Grans said you’re to sip this slowly,’ he explained, reaching for the cup. ‘Be careful, Mum. ‘It’s very hot.’

Maude now pushed herself up in bed and took the cup from him. ‘I don’t know why but this is always helpful, really a good remedy for me.’

‘I think Grans put something special in it, but she wouldn’t tell me what. She said it’s a secret.’

Maude peered at him over the rim of the cup. ‘That’s strange. Your grandmother usually tells you everything.’

James chuckled. He settled back in the chair, his eyes focused on his mother. Although she looked tired and sick, he remembered his grandmother’s words that it probably was only a chill, nothing more serious. Comforted by the thought, he relaxed.

It had been a slow day at the stalls, and Matthew decided to leave early on this warm June afternoon. The market’s owner, Henry Malvern, wasn’t visiting until the next day; concern about his wife made Matthew hasten his departure, and propelled him down the Hampstead main road.

He didn’t even take the barrow with him to bring back goods tomorrow. They had plenty of stock and he had locked it away in the shed with the sawhorses and planks.

The road was full of men who were leaving the market hall and others who worked in companies or factories nearby. The road was filled to overflowing, which surprised him. It was only five o’clock. Most men worked until six or seven, some even later.

Perhaps it’s the nice weather after lots of rain, Matthew thought, as he strode out, moving at a steady pace, not wanting to start perspiring. We all want to sit in our back yards and read a newspaper, or go to the pub for a pint.

The pub. A lot of men he knew made a habit of going for a drink after work – many of them most nights of the week. He didn’t. He wanted to be in his home with his Maude and their children. They were his whole world. He wasn’t interested in swilling down beer in the taproom or playing darts, and he certainly didn’t want to listen to husbands grumbling about their wives, trying to unload their problems on him.

Maude. The image of her face came into his head, and he smiled inwardly, suddenly thinking of the first time he had set eyes on her. Eighteen years ago now.

He had been nineteen and she had been seventeen, and they had bumped into each other in the back yard at Fountains Manor in Kent.

She had explained that she was delivering a blouse for Lady Agatha when she saw him glancing at the small suitcase she was holding. He had asked to carry it for her, and she had agreed. Then he had led her to the back door, ushered her into the kitchen, where his mother happened to be speaking with Cook.

His mother obviously knew the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, had greeted her warmly, and admired the rose-pink dress she was wearing. Within seconds, she had whisked her away, taking her to Lady Agatha in her boudoir.

The sense of disappointment he had felt that day rushed back to him as he increased his pace down the road, needing to get home to be there for Maude. He recalled how he had hung around the yard until the beautiful girl had finally emerged from the house. He had asked her if he could walk her to the main gates. She had looked at him intently, questioningly, and then she had smiled and he had smiled back, floored by her beauty. Those deep brown eyes, set wide apart, full of sparkle and life under perfectly arched brows, the burnished brown hair that fell in curls around her lovely, heart-shaped face, and the slender, lithe figure. She was breathtaking.

He was smitten. And so was she.

A year later they were married. And then came the children. They were happy, loving, devoted, and extremely close, and bonded with his parents and brothers to make a dependable family unit that gave them all a sense of security.

‘I’m hungry,’ Eddie wailed. ‘Why can’t I have a sausage roll? Now!’