Трейси Шевалье - Falling Angel

“Leave my mum out of this.”

“I’m not suggesting-”

“I want to stay here.”

“But… what will I say to Mrs. Coleman? It was she who dismissed you. I can’t go back on her decision.” She sounded desperate.

“You’re the lady of the house, ma‘am. I expect you can do what you like. You done already anyway.”

She didn’t say nothing for a bit. The baby moved inside me-I could feel its little foot kicking.

“All right,” she said finally. “You can come back to your job once you’ve had the baby. But you must leave today, and you can’t bring the baby with you or have anyone bring it here to see you. You can see it Sundays.”

“And Saturday afternoons. I want Saturday afternoons free too.” I was surprised at myself-the success of the blackmail made me bold.

“All right, Saturday afternoons too. But you’re not to tell anyone about any of this or I will make sure your baby’s taken away from you. Are we clear about that?”

“Yes, ma‘am.” It was strange to hear her try to sound hard-she wasn’t much good at it.

“All right. Where am I to go, then?”

“Leytonstone,” I said. “To Nellie off the High Street, next to the Rose and Crown.”

I heard a noise behind my sofa then, and I knew someone was back there. She didn’t seem to notice, though-she was looking out of the window again. I glanced behind me and saw Simon crouched there. It didn’t surprise me that he was eavesdropping-just like the little rascal. He was staring at me all angry for mentioning his mum. I shrugged-what else could I say?

“Go now,” she said then without looking at me. “Go and pack your things. I’ll order a cab for you.”

“Yes, ma‘am.” I got up. Now we were done with the business I wanted to say something to her but I didn’t know what exactly. So I just said, “Good-bye, ma’am,” and she said, “Good-bye, Jenny.” I went to the door and opened it. Just before I went out I looked back at her. She was still standing by the window, her eyes closed, clasping her hands in a fist against her stomach.

“Oh,” she said in a little sigh all to herself.

Simon was still hiding behind the sofa.

I hope his mum is gentle with her.

Don’t know that I’ll tell anyone, not even Trudy, but I escorted Kitty Coleman home the other night. I was coming back from nets on the heath with Richard Coleman when I remembered that Trudy wanted me to leave a message with the vicar at St. Anne‘s-a trifle about altar flowers or some such thing. I try not to attend to that sort of detail-best left to Trudy. But I told Richard I’d catch him up at the Bull and Last and ran off like a good errand boy.

Afterward I was heading toward the pub when I looked up Swain’s Lane and saw Kitty Coleman, walking along slowly with her head bowed, kicking at her skirts. I thought her a peculiar sight, given it was twilight and she was alone and didn’t seem to be walking anywhere in particular.

“Evening, Mrs. Coleman,” I said, raising my cap. “Nice night for a stroll, isn’t it? Last spurt of summer, looks like we’re having.” My choice of words made me blush. I don’t know what it is about Kitty Coleman-she inspires me to say things I shouldn’t.

She didn’t seem to notice, though-she just stared at me like I was a ghost. I was taken aback by her appearance. Richard had mentioned she’d been ill and was not looking her finest. But it was more than that. Her looks were plainly gone, I am sorry to say.

“Are you on your way somewhere?”

Kitty Coleman hesitated. “I have been… I wanted to climb the hill but couldn’t.”

“It is steep, that hill up to the cemetery. And if you haven’t been well it must seem like a mountain. Would you like me to take you to your husband? I was just going to meet him at the pub.”

“I don’t want to see Richard,” Kitty Coleman said quickly.

I didn’t know what to make of that, but I couldn’t leave her there on her own-she seemed so ill and childlike. “Shall I see you home, then?”

I held out my arm, feeling a little silly and wondering what Trudy would say if she could see us. I know she doesn’t think much of Kitty Coleman. Luckily Trudy was safely tucked away at home with our girls. Maude was there, too, staying the night.

After a moment Kitty Coleman took my arm. The quickest way to her house was straight past the Bull and Last, but I didn’t go that way. It would have felt strange to parade past the pub and have Richard Coleman look out and see me with his wife on my arm when I was meant to be at the vicar’s. I could have explained it, but it still didn’t look right. So I took the back way, which she didn’t remark upon. I tried to make conversation en route, but she didn’t say much, just “Yes” and “Thank you” when thanks weren’t even called for.

Never mind. I saw her home, feeling a little foolish but a little proud too-her face may not be so pretty now but she still carries herself well and wore a nice gray dress, even if it was a bit rumpled. A couple of passersby stared at us and I couldn’t help but hold myself a little straighter.

“Will you be all right, then, Mrs. Coleman?” I asked when we got to her door.

“Of course. Thank you.”

“You look after yourself, now. Tuck yourself up with a Horlicks and get an early night.”

She nodded and slipped inside. It was only when I was heading back to the pub that I realized she hadn’t said my name at all. I began to wonder if she’d even recognized me.

At the Bull and Last, Richard teased me for spending so long at the vicar’s. I just nodded and ordered another pint.

I was truly shocked when I saw Maude’s mother.

We almost didn’t see her. We had stopped at Maude’s house on our way home from school only because I wanted Maude to lend me a book about plants so that I can copy passages from it for a school essay. Maude was reluctant to get it, and I thought it was because she disapproved of my copying, as our essays are meant to be original. (It is so tedious to think up things to write, especially about “the life cycle of leaves”!) But now I think it was because she did not want me to see her mother. Indeed, when I think back on it, Maude has been coming to my house almost every day for months-even more than before.

She hurried me up to her room for the book and hurried me down again. Just then Mrs. Coleman came out of the morning room. She looked at us so vaguely that I was not even sure she really saw us until Maude said, “Hello, Mummy,” very softly, and she nodded slightly.

I was so surprised by her appearance that I did not even say anything about it to Maude-which made me rather sad, as I thought we shared all our thoughts. But I could not bring myself to ask her why her mother is so thin, and her hair suddenly has gray in it, and her skin looks like ditch water. Worse than that-for one can always dye or pull out gray hair (as Mama does) and apply a tonic to dull skin-Mrs. Coleman does not sparkle as she used to. Admittedly her sparkle felt a little wicked at times-which is why Mama does not care for her-but without it she is very flat indeed.

Clearly something is wrong at the Colemans‘. Not only is Maude’s mother not herself, but a few months ago their maid Jenny was suddenly taken ill and had to go away. Perhaps they have the same illness. Maude says Jenny is returning soon. I shall have to look to see if she has gray hairs as well. It is just as well she’s coming back, for the temporary chars have been dreadful. Maude hasn’t liked any of them, and the house looked none too clean, the little I saw of it. The plants on the landings were terribly dusty.