Lynda La Plante - The Legacy

‘I don’t know why you bother learning, Evie. Find yourself a boy, that’s what you should be doing.’

Evelyne looked at Lizzie-Ann. She was wearing only her bloomers with one of Will’s shirts over the top, her belly sticking out.

‘I’ve no interest in boys, Lizzie-Ann … if you could turn your charms on at the bakery I’d be grateful, we’ve no bread.’

‘I’ll do me Theda Bara for that old bugger … well, go on, if yer going.’

A plate of sweet, home-made biscuits and a glass of warm milk were waiting for Evelyne, and Doris had been back and forth to the window to see if she was really coming. All her precious books were laid out neatly on the table with a clean notebook, ready for work to begin.

Evelyne tapped the polished door knocker. She was acutely self-conscious about her appearance; her hair needed washing, her cardigan was darned and threadbare, even her skirt was torn at the hem. She wore a pair of her mother’s shoes, three sizes too large, and she went pink with shame when she noticed that her heels were black with soot.

‘Well, dear, better late than never. Now come in, wipe your feet on the mat.’

She stepped on to the gleaming linoleum in the narrow hall, her heart pounding, hardly able to say a word. She had never seen such lovely, gleaming furniture. There was a sofa covered in velvet with crocheted white cloths on the head rests, and there was a lovely rug in front of the fire.

‘You could eat your dinner off your floor, Mrs Evans.’

They sat at opposite sides of the table and gradually became more relaxed. Evelyne soon forgot her shyness and turned the pages eagerly, clapping her hands when she discovered a word she had not heard of before. She thumbed through Doris’ heavy dictionary.

‘And how, Evelyne, would you spell chameleon? Look it up … now remember, it might not begin with a “k”, it could be a “ch”, so search for the word …’

The wall clock chimed nine and Evelyne looked crestfallen.

‘Never mind, dear, we can continue next time.’

Evelyne found herself watching the clock in the kitchen waiting for Mrs Pugh to take little Davey, and then she was off, running as fast as her legs would carry her. Doris was always ready, standing at the door, biscuits and milk waiting on the table. She would dearly have loved to open her thin, bony arms and hug the child. Evelyne delighted her so, but she was too shy.

‘Oh listen, Mrs Evans, I know it by heart now. All night I practised just as you told me … “From her celestial car the Fairy Queen descended, and thrice she waved her wand, circled with wreaths of amaranth. Her thin and misty form moved with the moving air, and the clear silver tones as thus she spoke, were such as are unheard by all but the gifted ear”.’

Doris watched as Evelyne stood with her arms held up, her wondrous red hair wild from running, her cheeks flushed.

‘That was very good, dear, now drink your milk, and remember descend is “s” before “c”.’

She nibbled her thin lips, watching Evelyne eagerly thumbing through the dictionary. She had received a letter from her brother more than two weeks ago, and had spent sleepless nights over it. His wife had died — not that that had disturbed Doris in any way, far from it — but he had invited Doris to stay. He had said it was time they forgot their old wounds. And she did, after all, own part of the house.

‘Evie … Evelyne dear, I’m going to Cardiff.’

Seeing the desperate, haunted look on her young pupil’s face made her swallow hard.

‘Oh, will you be gone long, Mrs Evans?’ The child’s thin hands clenched and unclenched. She was fighting back the tears at the thought of losing her precious lessons.

‘Not long, but I was wondering if your father would give his permission … of course, I would pay your train fare and any expenses … would you like to come with me? Just a weekend trip? We could see the museums. Would you like to come?’

Evelyne was up and out of her chair, hugging Doris so tightly that she could hardly catch her breath. Evelyne’s kiss was frantic, but then she raised her fist and bit her knuckles. ‘I don’t think it would be possible, but thank you ever so.’

Doris had confused herself, she had not really intended asking the child. Yet now it seemed imperative that she should go. The life flooding through her tired, empty shell was turning Doris into a new woman.

‘Well, I won’t take no for an answer, and here, look, I’ve a few things put by for you.’

Rushing into her immaculate bedroom, Doris pulled open a drawer, even pushing aside her wedding dress as she searched through her neatly folded clothes and wrapped a selection in brown paper. Knowing the child possessed only the poor things she stood up in, she told Evelyne she had no need for them any more.

Evelyne carried the brown paper parcel up to her room and inspected the skirt, cardigan and blouse Doris had given her. They were nearly new and smelt of mothballs. There was not a single darn or hole and even though they were old-fashioned and not a very flattering colour, Evelyne thought they were fit for a queen.

‘Well, will you look at her, Will, if she doesn’t look a lady! Now, don’t you worry, Evie love, we’ll take care of everything, and if you don’t hurry you’ll miss the train.’

Evelyne kissed everyone, checked that Lizzie-Ann knew what to do for little Davey, and gave her so many instructions that they almost got into a fight. Doris wouldn’t come in, but stood on the doorstep with her overnight case. As the two went down the street Lizzie-Ann stared after them, then slammed the door. She turned on Will.

‘There’ll be no livin’ with her when she gets back. Wish to God I’d never got meself married, I’d be in London by now, and that’s where I’m going, you mark my words.’

Good-natured as ever, Will said nothing, didn’t even mention that he’d received his call-up papers that morning.

DORIS HAD packed a small picnic for the train, and they shared it as the train puffed its way across the valley. Evelyne was more like a child of six than a fourteen-year-old, pointing out of the window, moving from one side of the carriage to the other, unable to keep still for excitement. She smoothed her skirt with her hands, mimicking everything Doris did, acting the lady.

‘Now, Evelyne, pack everything neat and tidy, don’t leave any rubbish on the train. We’ll put it in a bin when we get to Cardiff.’

Evelyne would have eaten the brown paper wrappings if Doris had asked her, she was so thrilled. She grew quieter as the train slowed its pace and moved into the siding at Cardiff Central Station. In clipped tones fit for a sergeant major in the Salvation Army, Doris barked orders to Evelyne.

‘Tickets, handbag, case, exit up ahead, keep close by me … now then, we have to get a tram to Clifton Street.’

When they were seated on the top of the tram, Evelyne turned her head this way and that, her heart thudding in her chest.

‘Oh, Mrs Evans, look at the castle, it is just beautiful, and the grass, is it not greener than at home? Oh, look, look at the motor vehicles!’

Some of the passengers sniggered as she shouted in excitement.

‘Evelyne, dear, you don’t need to shout, I am right next to you, not in an open field … speak softly, child, it’s not ladylike to shout.’

As they got off the tram Evelyne clung tightly to Doris’ hand and almost got them run over, she was so unused to the traffic.

‘Taxi … Taxi …’

Evelyne clapped her hand over her mouth to stop herself shouting out. She had never seen a taxi like it. It had red leather seats, and the driver wore a peaked cap. They got into the back seat and Doris rapped on the glass partition with her umbrella.